


Snape the Younger

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark, Drama, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First War with Voldemort, Fluff, Horror, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-08
Updated: 2008-10-13
Packaged: 2018-10-27 13:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 133,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Book 1 in the Snape Cycle. Severus Snape was a young man once. How he became the person we all know is up for speculation. This is my version of those events. This is an AU story but was written before HBP was published, so please forgive.





	1. Chapter 1: Betrayal of Threes

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** The story is complete but will be posted one chapter at a time.  Each 'Chapter' is written as a short story but they all come together to make a complete story.I belong to the BeST group, the Beta Stealth Unit and between the four of us this piece has been checked for flow, spelling, punctuation and continuity.  So, many thanks to Zarathustra, Nathan and Wicked Bunjihny, thanks for all your invaluable assistance, guys.  Here we go again!

The First Cut 

Bursting into the common room, Severus rushed through to his own room, the door slamming and locking itself after him.

“What’s up with the blackbird?” someone voiced in surprise as the breeze of his passage dissipated.

Evan Rosier shook his head and shrugged as he pulled himself out of his armchair and lounged off toward the dorms.  Knocking softly on Severus’ door, he waited a few moments before trying the door handle.  It didn’t move, not even for a silently cast unlocking spell.  Shaking his head in disinterested defeat, Rosier returned to the common room with a shrug.  When Severus was in a temper it was usually best to leave him alone, unless you wanted to be hexed into oblivion.  Quite a few of the teachers thought Snape was not very good at wand magic, and they were right, as far as they went.  What they never seemed to realise was Snape didn’t need to be any better than he was because what he knew and his wandless magic were stronger and more vicious than anything the idiotic teachers would ever try to teach them.  Wandering back into the common room, Evan settled back into a comfortable chair and continued to fire-watch, dosing before bedtime.

Severus lay sprawled carelessly on his bed, a pillow pulled over his head.  He knew it was childish, but for many years it was the only way he knew how to muffle sobs so his father - or worse, his grandmother - wouldn’t hear his tears.  He hated the weakness crying betrayed but knew no other way to get rid of the built-up fear and hatred.  It had served him well in enduring his past ‘training’, and it served him well now as he was betrayed by the one person he thought was incorruptible!  Professor Dumbledore, the great adjudicator, had virtually told him his life was worthless, that he had better shut up and keep silent on the topic of his near murder at the ‘hands’ of fellow students.

Oh, he hadn’t used those words, he had used words like ‘prejudice’, ‘Ministry Edicts’, ‘expulsion’ and of course ‘silent secrecy or else’.  All it really meant was that the Golden Gryffindors were to be released without penalty because a Slytherin’s death was not worthy of consideration.

~~*~~

When he finally awoke, the sun was trying to peer in at the tiny window high in the wall of his room.  He felt rumpled and dirty; and snotty, if he was perfectly honest.  Grabbing clean clothes and a towel, he stormed out of his room and into the showers.  Tossing his dirty robes aside, he untied ties and pulled tabs, tossing his very correct wizarding robes onto the tiles.  He hated the confines of the under-robes and had managed to purchase a couple of pairs of Muggle-style underpants.  It was not such a crime, or at least, it hadn’t been until bloody Black and his gang of thugs had gotten hold of him.  Damned bastard!

Last night his world had been changed for all time.  This morning, in the light of day, with the hot water beating down on his head and shoulders, he could think a little more rationally about the situation he had found himself in last evening, full moon to be precise!  He had always been curious about where Remus Lupin went every month and why he always looked like last week's cat vomit yet was strong enough to pull a first-year out of a hole Peeves conjured under her feet, with one hand.  He should have been bright enough to put the pieces together, but for some reason he had not managed it.

Sirius Black had volunteered the information that he could find the answer last evening under the Whomping Willow and he had gone, all his learned caution thrown out of the window by his overwhelming curiosity.  If not for that other arch bastard, James Potter, he would have been killed, or worse, Turned.  That would have really put his grandmother’s nose out of joint; a werewolf was not what she had been trying to turn him into until her death last year.

So then he had gone with a perfectly legitimate complaint to Professor Dumbledore expecting justice.  And what had happened?  Nothing!  Sweet Merlin protect him, the old bastard had basically told him to forget the incident if he did not want even worse repercussions.  So, the outcome of last night’s little adventure was threefold.  A Snape’s life was worth less than a werewolf’s comfort.  He owed James Bloody Potter a Life Debt which would have to be repaid in all good conscience.  Lastly, Sirius Bleeding Black was getting off with a slapped wrist instead of a one-way trip to Azkaban!

Sighing deeply, Severus flicked off the taps and stepped out of the shower, grabbing his towel and slinging it over his head.  As he towelled off his hair, a pair of hands grabbed his waist, pulling him back into a hard body.  He reacted without thinking, forcing _Protego_ between him and his assaulter, tossing the body aside and almost casting _Sectumsempra_ on him before realising who it was.

“Damn it…!  Evan, I could have hexed you into next week!” Severus yelped as his boyfriend sprawled on the tiles in a heap.  “Merlin, did you really want to get splattered all over the walls?”

“Oh, you are touchy this morning, did you get out of bed on the wrong side or are you still pissed off about whatever upset you last night?” Evan asked, allowing Severus to pull him to his feet and then stepping closer to lay an exploring hand on Severus’ chest.  He was so pale and thin it fascinated Evan who was almost a foot shorter and much heavier built than Snape.

Severus sighed and allowed the caress, pulling the shorter boy forward to stroke his hair back from his forehead.  He liked Evan well enough and enjoyed their lovemaking, had done for the last eight months, but sometimes he knew there was something missing from the relationship.  Besides, if his father ever found out Severus was diddling with Evan, he would go berserk!  A shiver coursed through him as Evan found the soft skin behind his ear and sucked gently.  Damn, the boy knew him too well!

Evan smiled into the pale skin when he felt Severus’ reactions; he was so responsive, as if he had never been touched or held before Evan had pulled him down for that first kiss.  Oh, he had watched Severus being courted by a couple of the girls around the common room.  His complete indifference was a challenge to any female with enough oestrogen in her veins to make her human.  It was that very indifference that made Evan bold enough to approach him in the first place, plus a twenty galleon bet from Nott.  The rest, as they say, was history!  Besides, it was possible to use pillowtalk to persuade Snape to brew rather illegal and very high quality potions every now and then, just for fun, of course, never for profit.  Although if a few chaps wanted to contribute to the cost of ingredients, who was he to refuse?

The sound of approaching voices made Evan move back, knowing how sensitive to gossip Severus was.  Not that he blamed his friend, he had heard Severus’ nightmares on the few occasions they had spent the whole night together.  He began to strip even as Severus hurriedly threw on his under-robes before scrubbing at his short stubble of black hair.  Evan often wondered why Severus did not grow the half inch stubble to something like a reasonable length, but Severus had merely muttered something about not providing hand holds if he could help it.

~~*~~

OWLs were over and sixth year was in full swing; those who had struggled to remember what day of the week it was were sprawled around the common room, moaning and groaning as if they were dying.  Those who knew the value of effort were either head down in a textbook or away at the library, boning up as hard as they could as sixth year work laid the basics for their NEWTs.  The lucky few were flicking through the pages, making a desultory effort to recap their studies, not really giving a toss about revision.

Severus was bored, as revision was an unnecessary waste of his time, and still steaming angry over Dumbledore’s perceived favouritism to those Marauder bastards.  He had quite liked Lupin before the night of full moon, liked his quiet studiousness and his shy, almost nervous smile if they encountered each other in the library.  In fact, they had shared a book on a number of occasions and had struck sparks off each other when their hands touched in the process of turning pages.  Severus had a feeling they could have been more than friends, given half a chance, but then Black and Potter had burst onto the scene with Pettigrew in their wake as usual and that had been the end of that.

Now he knew what Remus was, he did not want anything to do with him, or at least that is what he told himself as he entered the library and found his usual seat in the back of the room.  Pulling a book out of his robes, he engorged it and flicked to the page he was interested in.  This book was something special in the Potions publishing world, the final year book from the College of Potions Makers curriculum, and as far as Severus could see, it was pathetically inaccurate.  He had already begun revising it, changing various stirring methods, timing and even interchanging potions ingredients.  All he needed now was somewhere to brew so he could test his theories.  One thing he had discovered very early in his school career was that most people were totally incompetent when it came to the fine art of brewing, and he was not.

A soft step behind him made him turn, his wand half out until he saw who was there; then it came out fully.  “Stay away from me, you monster,” he hissed bitterly.

Remus Lupin sighed and held both hands up in surrender.  “Severus, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.  Sirius was way out of line the other night, way, way beyond the pale.  You know I would never hurt you, if, if I was myself.”  He dropped his head and bit his lip as if to stop tears falling.  “It’s not like I want this, not like I want to turn into a monster every month.  Merlin knows, I would give anything _not_ to have it happen, but it does and I just have to live with it until it kills me, or the Ministry carts me away to Azkaban, or whatever they have planned for people like me.”

“They wait until you turn then chop your head off with a silver axe and display your carcass at the Ministry until it’s sent to the Apothecary and turned into potions ingredients,” Severus told him viciously.  “Azkaban is too good for the likes of you!”

Remus shuddered at the sheer weight of malice in the larger boy’s eyes.  “Just for the record, Severus, I am glad James saved your life.  I would not forgive myself if anything happened to you because of me, and I wouldn’t wish this curse on anyone, not even my worst enemy, and you are not my enemy, Severus.  I had hoped you would be my friend, but I know that is impossible now.  I won’t disturb you again, only to say I’m really, really sorry, truly I am.”  He sighed a shuddering breath and walked away, leaving Severus torn between forgiveness and anger.  By the time he decided what he felt, Lupin was long gone and the shadows were thick and black.

~~*~~

The Seeds of the Final Betrayal 

“Hey Rosier!”  The shout was cheerful as footsteps pounded in the corridor and the door was thrust open.

Evan turned his head and snarled at the intruder who was back-pedalling as fast as he could, apologising all the way.  Sighing, the stocky boy stared down at the almost terrified expression on his partner’s face and sighed again.  “Well, that destroyed the moment, now didn’t it?” he complained as he hopped off the suddenly flaccid youth.

Severus shuddered in real fear as he pulled the duvet up over his suddenly freezing body and curled into a tight ball.  Luke Snape-Madrigal was a cousin of sorts and a gossip, as well as a telltale.  News of what Severus was doing and with whom was sure to be broadcast far and wide at the next family meeting, and the consequences were sure to be appalling!  He closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out the world then they sprang open to pin his lover to the spot.  “Why didn’t you lock the bloody door?” he demanded furiously.

“Who cares if a stupid fourth-year catches us?  He’s a cousin of yours, right?”

“Yes, Evan, he is a cousin of mine and that means he will go straight home to Mummy and tell her all about what he saw Cousin Severus doing and have a good laugh.  Then his mother will tell her sister and her sister will tell her husband and my uncle will tell my father, and my father will demand an explanation from me.”

“So tell him you were with me,” Evan tossed over his shoulder as he pulled up his Muggle jeans.

Severus’ jaw dropped at Evan’s sheer effrontery then snapped shut, muscles bunching in his cheeks to stop the shrill spill of horror at the thought.  Evan had no idea of how his family would react, but Severus had a very good idea!  In pure-blood circles, sleeping with boys was not a crime per se; it was the lack of off-spring that usually occurred that would cause the problem.  Unfortunately, the Snape family was not ‘normal’ for pure-bloods, being totally bent in the head over the strangest things.  His father had ordered one of his cousins to be castrated when it was found he had slept with his brother.  Two of the girl cousins had been subject to the Cruciatus Curse when they were discovered kissing in the attic.

_“Sexual relations within the Snape Family will be conducted between one man and one woman and no other combination would be tolerated in the Snape lexicon!”_

He remembered that piece of the foam flecked harangue his father had screamed to the massed family gathering just last year.  He remembered particularly as he had just discovered that Evan Rosier sucked cock better than anyone else he had ever imagined.

For a week Severus was almost physically sick every time he thought about his return home in less than a month’s time.  He knew full well Luke was going to spill the beans by the sly smirk and the giggling whispers that followed him around the corridors.  Evan merely preened and simpered at the notoriety, unable to see why Severus could possibly be so silly as to fear gossip.  Severus wanted to slap the silly smile off his face for all time but managed to restrain himself.  Fortunately, an end of term party took both their minds off the problem for a short while.

~~*~~

“There’s going to be a Halloween party at the Three Broomsticks this weekend,” Evan told him excitedly, already rustling through his wardrobe looking for something to wear.  “Everyone will be there, Severus, including a few Old Boys, and my cousins!  You’ll love them, they are so cool!  Say, how about you brew some of your special concoction to spike the punch with?” Evan stopped his rummaging to shoot Severus a sly smile over his shoulder.  “You know you are the best there is at that sort of stuff.”

Severus sighed and pulled out a wine red robe for his excited friend.  “Here, this one, it looks good on you.  If I were to brew a potion for the party, everyone would know who had done it so no, I don’t think so.  Let everyone buy butterbeer or whatever.  The barkeeper would be a lot happier if we all spent money there rather than dipping it out of the punchbowl for free.”

“Merlin, you are so straight-laced, more like a Gryffindork than a Slytherin!”  Evan held the robe against his chest and nodded agreement.  “Oh well, there’s bound to be some sort of recreational potions there, I suppose.”

Severus just shook his head and sighed.  Evan was getting very fond of what he called recreational potions, too fond in some ways.  Still, he was Severus’ friend so he could be forgiven and given some leeway.

The party was in full swing, the Three Broomsticks so crowded there was hardly room to breathe.  All four houses rubbed shoulders with fair amicability while slightly older men and women mingled with the brash crowd of school kids with an air of sophisticated superiority that was almost palpable.  The regular patrons had had enough sense to evacuate their usual haunt for the day.

Evan pushed through the crowd eagerly while Severus followed, most people having the sense to get out of his way before he had to move them.  There was something about the tall, slightly shabby figure that repelled people without a spell being spoken.  At the bar, the barman quickly filled an order for two butterbeers, refused Evan’s request for a Firewhisky and turned away to serve the next patron.

Severus surveyed the crowd with a jaundiced eye, noting the clump of red and gold over by the far wall.  Black had the beast tucked under his arm and the red haired Mudblood was sucking on Potter’s ear while Pettigrew seemed more interested in the contents of his beer bottle.  Severus wondered about Pettigrew, always a follower, never entirely part of the dynamic duo, pretty much like the animal, just a tag-along.  He had wondered if Pettigrew had had a crush on Potter but obviously Potter was just a breeder like any other, so that punctured that theory - unless it was a case of unrequited love.  That idea amused Severus until he felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down with a sneer.  The girl at his elbow was a Hufflepuff, Enid something, a third-year with big brown eyes and toffee coloured hair.

“What do you want?” he demanded snidely, twitching his sleeve out of her grasp.

“I – that is – oh dear!”

Shaking his head Severus took an amused swallow of his drink, allowing the girl to stutter and mumble, digging a deeper and deeper hole in her embarrassment.  “Aren’t you a little young for this potion?” he finally asked in disgust when her circumlocution began to bore him.

“I – no – that is, I’m fifteen,” she blurted out then bit her bottom lip to stop it trembling.  “I – I just don’t want to, you know….”

Sighing, Severus reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a tiny vial, flicking the seal off with a practiced thumbnail.  “Five Galleons,” he said emotionlessly.  “It will take effect in fifteen minutes and be in force for twenty-four hours – not twenty-five or twenty-four and a half but twenty-four as of, now – understood?  Give me the vial back, they don’t grow on trees, you know.”

He ignored her protestations of gratitude as he turned back to his drink with a sneer.  He ignored Evan who demanded to know what the Hufflepuff had wanted.  He ignored the speculative glances from a group of Ravenclaws, and he even ignored the glares sent his way by the Gryffindor contingent in the corner, until Black was there spinning him around by the arm and slamming him up against the bar.

“Are you selling drugs to minors, Snivellus?” the belligerent Black demanded, thrusting a large fist up into Severus’ face.

Placing a finger on the fist, Severus used a modicum of wandless magic to ease it away from his nose.  “When did my business become yours, Black?” he purred softly.

“When you sell drugs to little kids, you arsehole!”

“Drugs?  My, my, your imagination is certainly a wild and woolly place, and as clean as a sewer after a gastro epidemic,” he added with a smirk, making the developing crowd snigger.  “Go verify your facts, Black, before you make an even bigger fool of yourself than usual, if that is possible.”

“Why you…,” Sirius drew back his fist but could not slam it into the smirking face as it appeared to be stuck.

“Don’t, Sirius,” Lupin said, still holding his friend’s elbow.  “I have it on good authority that he is not selling anything harmful, quite the opposite,” the werewolf murmured in Black’s ears.

“Whose authority?” Black hissed, furious that he could not vent his spleen on the snotty bastard who had been the bane of his existence for the past five years.

“Lily’s,” Remus muttered, blushing furiously.

“Lily’s?”  Half the crowd turned to stare at the redhead who was draped under Potter’s arm.  She stared back, almost as effectively as a basilisk, green gaze locked with Snape’s black over a gulf of feet and miles.  Snape smirked even more and gave her a very slight bow before turning away and ignoring the crowd, simply moved off to a quieter corner.

“You handled the blood traitor with exquisite dignity,” a voice murmured, and a tall blond lounged forward, hand held out.  “Lucius Malfoy,” he introduced himself with a faint smile.  “Are you selling drugs?”

Snape snorted slightly.  “Contraception potions.  It doesn’t take the bright ones long to realise that drunken witches and wizards are not capable of pronouncing the charm properly or reliably, and that Madam Pomfrey will not hand out contraception potions without a huge lecture and only if the girl is over seventeen.  Asking her to get rid of the result of an unfortunate encounter is liable to land you in front of the Wizengamot.  So, the choice is simple, deal with Knockturn Alley, or the Slytherin Vampire.”

“You?”

“Me,” Severus confirmed haughtily.

“And are you?” the blond asked in amusement.

Glaring, Severus shook his head slowly, an evil grin curving one side of his mouth.  “Sadly, no.”

They exchanged smirks as Lucius offered the younger man a seat and a drink.  Severus accepted the Firewhisky with a casual aplomb that made Lucius smile to himself, perhaps this boy was worth knowing after all.  He had heard reports of the Snape’s prowess with potions, how he was brilliant but nasty, with a tongue that could cut the hide of a dragon at fifty paces.  Also that he was completely and truly homosexual, not the usual pure-blood mix of casual bisexuality.  The young man was no beauty, that was for certain but his bone structure was fantastically chiselled and that nose!  There was a very crude saying floating around the traps, and it would be interesting to find out if there was any truth in it.  It would also be interesting to see what his fine dense stubble of hair looked like if it was allowed to grow to a reasonable length instead of being butchered off at less than a centimetre from the roots.

“Lucius, you came!”  Evan bounced up like a rambunctious puppy, forcing his way in to get noticed as he pushed Severus aside and slid onto the bench.  “I see you met Severus, he’s terrific at potions.  Whoa, is that whiskey, give me a sip,” he exclaimed, grabbing Severus’ glass and taking a gulp which promptly choked him.  He coughed and spluttered spraying the area in whiskey.  Severus winced in disgust as he rescued his glass and cleaned up the mess with a wave of his hand.

“Impressive, wandless magic without even an effort,” Lucius murmured under the noise of his cousin’s choking.

Severus frowned slightly then shrugged.  “Just useful,” he commented off-handedly, then pounded Evan’s back with an exasperated sigh.  “Serves you right for being greedy,” he said scathingly as the boy recovered.

“Well, how was I to know it was Firewhisky?” Evan demanded querulously, wiping his streaming eyes and attempting to glare at his boyfriend.

“Evan, be a good boy and run along, I wish to speak to Severus about something,” Lucius said flatly, the boy standing immediately, a pout of discontent marring his usually handsome features.  “Now, Severus - do you mind if I call you Severus? – tell me about yourself, what do _you_ like to do?”

Blinking as if he was unused to having his preferences asked, Severus sat back thoughtfully before beginning to talk.

The Second Level of Betrayal 

“Snape!  Professor Dumbledore wants you immediately!  In his office!” Professor McGonagall snapped as she strode up behind the Slytherin table.

A frown pulled Severus’ black eyebrows down as he rose to his full height, all but dwarfing the professor who instinctively took a step backward before recalling herself.  He smirked as he half bowed to her, waving her to lead the way with exquisite manners that seemed a mockery when accompanied by a faint smirk.  Glaring, Professor McGonagall strode off, not liking the Slytherin behind her at all.  There always seemed to be a cold reserve in the boy that no one could reach over or breach to get close to him.

The headmaster’s office was exactly the same as always, it never changed, even when life changing decisions or threats were issued on that very hearth rug, Severus thought as he glided in and stopped a polite foot from the headmaster’s desk.  “You wished to see me, Sir?” he enquired politely as the headmaster wrote on a scroll.

Without looking up, the headmaster pushed a small vial toward him, Severus taking it and studying it carefully.  It was of crude glass, the cheap vials available in any apothecary’s store for a few knuts.  The seal was chipped and a crack ran from one end to the other, indicating that the potion inside was probably tainted or had gone off.  With an experienced fingernail, Severus flicked off the cap and sniffed cautiously at the brew, drawing his head back sharply as the smell assailed him, definitely off!  A more cautious sniff identified it as one of the dream potions, probably a mild aphrodisiac with a hallucinogenic component too.  He was about to dab some on his tongue when the headmaster looked up and said ‘no’ quite sharply.  One of Severus’ eyebrows rose in question.  “If you wish me to make a proper analysis, then I need to taste it.  So far, I can only tell you that it is one of the dream potions, is off and not recommended for ingestion,” he said formally.

“Then you admit to it?” McGonagall snapped in outrage.

“Admit to what?”  Severus was genuinely bewildered.

“That you brewed and sold this to your fellow students in a flagrant disregard for the school rules and policies on banned substances,” McGonagall all but spat.

“I should think not!” Severus said in horror.

“And you would never brew such a thing?” McGonagall said contemptuously.

“That rubbish?  Merlin, no!  For a start there is so much oil of Elm in there that it totally counteracts the hemp resin, and it has been boiled instead of simmered.  Whoever made this is a hack and careless too, the seal was very badly placed and not even spelled for freshness.  My potions are perfect!”  Snape crossed his arms and sneered down his nose at the teacher in total disgust.

Dumbledore coughed slightly to hide a chuckle.  “So you did not sell this to Mr Rosier?”

Severus’ jaw dropped then snapped shut with a glare that would have melted lead.  “I am not in the habit of selling inferior potions to anyone, certainly not that poisonous concoction.”

“Then where did Mr Rosier get it if not from you?  We know you brew --”  Professor McGonagall broke off her tirade at Dumbledore’s slight cough.

“Thank you, Minerva, we know what Severus does for the school population, without stating it boldly.”  He smiled at the head of Gryffindor before turning to the tall, glowering student who was obviously outraged at being accused of making inferior goods, although he did not deny brewing illegal potions.  Albus just hoped Minerva had not actually caught that omission in her zeal to find a culprit.  “Mr Snape, a Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw seventh-year student have been taken to the infirmary after ingesting this potion, and that particular vial was found on Evan Rosier, do you have any idea of where they are coming from?”

“Not my cauldron,” Snape reiterated in disgust.  “If you have two idiots poisoned with this rubbish, don’t give them arrowroot, it will only exacerbate the problem, give them accassia extract instead.”

“As if you would know better than Madam Pomfrey,” Professor McGonagall put in snidely, but Professor Dumbledore was quick to Floo the infirmary and asked the question.  It was too late; both students had been given arrowroot and were vomiting blood.

“Remove their stomach contents by translocation and fill them with the accassia extract in a blood clotting potion,” Severus said off-handedly, a very superior smirk on his face, especially when the same advice came from St Mungo’s a few moments later. Snape merely harrumphed at being proved right, never uncrossing his arms all through the emergency.

“So, Mr Snape, you have been doing some extracurricular reading,” Professor Dumbledore smiled at the sullen boy who simply nodded once.  “Well done indeed, twenty points to Slytherin.  You may go now.”

Snape turned on a heel, his robes flowing around him in a cloud of darkness as he left.

“That boy…!”

“…is brilliant,” Albus said gently.  “Abrasive, nasty-minded and razor-tongued but still brilliant.”

“Yes!  That’s what is so…so infuriating!”

Albus merely laughed and patted her hand as he poured some tea for them both.

~~*~~

Severus stormed into the common room and spied Rosier sprawled in an armchair by the fire.  As soon as Evan saw him he tried to run, but Snape was across the room in two strides and had him by the throat, lifting him bodily and throwing him into the far wall.  The rest of the common room froze as Snape stalked the fallen boy and picked him up again until Evan was nose to nose with him and his feet were six inches off the ground.  “How dare you!  Not only do you lay false evidence, you also accuse me, _me_ , of inferior brewing!  Give me one good reason why I should not break your lying neck?  Just one reason…”

“Snape, put him down this instant!”  Larson, the seventh-year prefect, stormed across and began prising Snape’s long, thin fingers from the neck that was turning blue.

Finally, Snape let go and allowed Rosier to collapse coughing and gasping on the floor as he turned away and stormed out of the Slytherin dungeons and up to the Astronomy tower, ensconcing himself in an alcove overlooking the lake.  Twice now he had been betrayed by people he had believed had his best interests at heart, first Dumbledore and then Rosier.  He shivered, wrapping long arms around his thin torso to stave off the psychic chill.  Didn’t they say those sort of things happened in threes?  Merlin, did he even know one more person whom he had put any trust in?  Thinking deeply, he realised he didn’t really trust anyone at all any more.  Oh well, perhaps there was no number three after all, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not shake the icy cold hand that clawed at his gut.

The Final Blow 

The Hogwarts Express deposited its cargo of young witches and wizards on the platform right on time.  Families reunited, hugs and kisses were exchanged and the crowd dissipated rapidly leaving silence in their wake.  Severus shivered and sighed as he gathered his shrunken trunk and put it in his pocket.  He had hoped his father would remember to send someone for him even if he had not replied to Severus’ owl, but obviously it was a vain hope, especially after two hours had crawled by.  Shaking his head and gathering his robes around him more tightly, Severus slowly made his way out to the cross-over point into Muggle territory.  He was not sure what he was supposed to do now, but he had a feeling if he didn’t try to rectify his problems himself he would be spending the next couple of weeks sitting on the platform waiting until school went back in January.

The hustle and bustle of Muggles pressed shoulder to shoulder was terrifying to Severus as he bit his lip and stared out over the sea of humanity.  For a moment, he wanted to fade back into the platform but then his spine stiffened.  He was a Snape; he was Severus Snape who had no one to rely on but himself and never really had!  Holding his head up high, he breasted the tide of Muggles with the intention of making his way to the Leaky Cauldron.

He had barely gone ten feet when he realised he was completely turned around and had absolutely no idea where he was.  Stopping in the middle of a crowd did not make him popular, someone snarling at him, another laughing when he jerked in surprise.  Taking a deep breath, he was about to reach for his wand when he was buffeted hard in the shoulder from behind.  Someone snapped ‘bloody foreigners’ as he was punched in the kidneys and turned around again.  As he stumbled and tripped, he almost ran head first into a very familiar blond who caught his arm with a laugh.

“Severus Snape, isn’t it?  What are you doing in this poisonous brew of, er, Muggles?”

Severus blinked, then smiled tentatively.  “Trying to get to Diagon Alley so I can Floo home,” he confessed miserably.

“Well, come on, let’s get you out of here before you cause a riot in those robes.”  The blond laughed and guided the taller youth over to the side of the platform and into a quiet alcove.  “Ever side-along Apparated?  Once is good enough; hold on tight now.”  Lucius Malfoy grinned and they were gone.

The Leaky Cauldron was fairly busy with people on their way home from picking up their children.  Malfoy signalled for a couple of whiskeys and settled his catch into a quiet inglenook, plopping one in front of the pale, introspective boy.  “Now, just how come you were left stranded on the platform when everyone else had been taken off home?”

Severus took his time in answering, taking a sip of the Firewhisky and holding it against his tongue appreciatively before swallowing.  “I have to assume that they didn’t get my owl and so were not informed of my arrival,” he said flatly, staring into the blue flames that were reflected in the golden sparks in the liquor.

“Really?” Lucius drawled an eyebrow rising as the younger man almost dared him to contradict him.  “Well, it could be that they had no idea on the return date from Hogwarts, but that is not a very possible reality.  Most likely they simply couldn’t be arsed to come and fetch you.”

Severus drew a sharp breath but even as he opened his mouth to refute his assertion, he closed it and took refuge in another sip of the fiery liquid.  “Yeah, probably,” he mumbled disconsolately.  “Oh well, another three weeks and they can go fuck themselves.”

“Oh, and what happens in three weeks?” Lucius asked meditatively.

“I turn seventeen and I will never have to go back again if I don’t want to.  Oh, my mother left me some money and a small property that was not part of the entail, just her own personal bequests.  Once I am in possession of those I will not be dependent on my father for every damned thing and I can finally make my own life.”

“Ah, a man of means then,” Lucius teased gently, and Severus snorted, amused.

“By no means, merely independence and enough to finish school then pay for my education at the College of Potions Makers.”

“And that is your ambition, to become a potions maker?”

“A Master,” Severus corrected haughtily.

“Oh, I see, and do you think you will be a Master one day?”

Severus rolled his eyes.  “I’m already a master; I merely need the paper to prove it.”

Lucius laughed in delight at the boy’s sheer overweening confidence in his own abilities.  He noticed all the whiskey had gone and the boy was looking a lot more relaxed than he had when Lucius had stumbled over him in the station.  Snape was not handsome but he was compelling, all black and white in his shabby school robes, pale cream skin and ink-black hair.  Even his lips were pale, thin and understated but his eyes were dynamic; as black as hot pitch, framed in long curling lashes and blazing with conviction.  There was passion in the boy for his potions, and possibly for other things.  Lucius was more than willing to find that passion and bathe in its fire.  Still, first things first.

Rarely impulsive, Lucius smiled and pulled out a slip of parchment, using his wand to scribe something on the paper before folding it and passing it over.  Severus accepted the slip and opened it, reading with one eyebrow raised.  “Your Floo address?  Interesting!  Do you want me to call you?” he asked with a knowing smirk.

Considering his impulsive act, Lucius shrugged, covering his back.  “If you ever have need of another rescue, just call me, or I’ll call you.” He smirked back and signalled for another round of drinks.

Severus pursed thin lips and pocketed the parchment before raising his newly filled glass in a toast.  “To friends; new and old.”

“To friends.”

~~*~~

The Floo deposited Severus in his own suite at Snape Manor, the rooms well cared for and clean as the house-elves always looked after them.  There were a few books on the shelves and a few personal items scattered here and there but little to show that a boy had lived almost sixteen years in the same three rooms.  Removing his trunk from his pocket, Severus left it out for his house-elf to deal with and went straight into the bathroom, wishing there was a shower rather than just a tub.  He had spent the rest of yesterday with Lucius at the Leaky Cauldron, sipping fine whiskey, talking and dining then sharing a room and a bed for the night.

Severus had thought he had learned a thing or two about making love to a man over the past few months, but Lucius had showed him so much more he was virtually awestruck by the older man’s expertise.  Soaking in the tub, he relived a few of the highlights of the evening and night, a slow, satisfied smile curving his thin lips.  Still, he was sure his enthusiasm for the learning had been enough to compensate for any lack of skill Lucius might have noticed.  He had been puzzled when Lucius first commented that the nose did not lie, but after the saying had been explained he could not help but laugh himself into a stitch.  _“In fact,”_ he mused to himself, _“it was the first time I have really laughed in… years!”_   Reasons to laugh for sheer amusement were few and far between in Severus’ life but for a short time, in a rather seedy, run-down pub, he had found a kindred spirit; for a short, precious time.

Stepping out of the tub, Severus towelled off and went in search of something to wear that was not school uniform but everything he owned was too short by a good few inches in hem and sleeves, although they still fitted him in width.  Pulling out his wand, he lengthened the hems to fit and checked the mirror before he put his wand away and opened his door.  A house-elf appeared immediately, cringing before him with tears in its huge eyes.

“Master Severus, your father is wanting you in the Great Hall as soon as you come out.  Echy is so, so sorry but he has to tell you not to run away, you must not go away from Snape Hall and hide from your father, I am to not tell you this at all.”  The small creature whined and smacked its head into the nearest wall until Severus caught it by the dish towel and held it away from its self-punishment.

“Now Echy, you didn’t tell me anything like that at all.  In fact, you were very clear that you did _not_ tell me, weren’t you?” Severus said softly, a shiver of dread running down his spine.  Echy was pretty much his personal house-elf; having taken care of him after his mother and unborn sister were murdered by his father all those years ago.  If the house-elf had risked so much to warn him then it was going to be one hell of a meeting.  Still, he wasn’t a coward and he had faced his father’s wrath often enough so he simply put the elf down and straightened his robe before striding forward and heading down the stairs to the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was indeed huge, a long, wide room with a high, vaulted ceiling and buttressed columns to hold it up.  Two rows of columns were set at fifteen feet from each wall making a central aisle of about twenty feet from the arched double doorways to the raised dais at the other end where his Grandmother’s throne had always stood.  Time and again Severus had made that hard, uncomfortable walk down the central aisle, the tables against both walls usually crowded with relatives, all craning to get a look at the Heir to the Earldom as he walked toward his doom.  Today, the long tables were empty, only a few cousins and of course his uncles clustered at the far end around the throne where his father sat in all his wasted glory.

Straightening his spine, Severus drew a deep silent breath and began the walk, knowing it was going to end in pain and tears as usual.  He walked with precision, each foot in a direct line with the last, no footfall breaking the silence, only the slight hiss of cloth on cloth marking his passage.  He had always found that a silent step bothered his father more than any stamping approach, almost unnerving him sometimes, especially if Severus could get close without alerting him then make him jump when he spoke.

Today that would not happen as his father watched his approach like a vulture studying a tasty piece of carrion.  His uncles were present, of course, leaning on their elbows as they peered around a column, their sons there too and Luke Snape-Madrigal with his father and brother.  Severus did not bother to glance at them as he approached his father on his throne and bowed politely as he had been schooled from an early age.  Straightening, he stood perfectly still, feet together, hands clasped lightly in front of him, eyes downcast.

“Well… well… well…!  So you finally decided to grace us with your presence, did you?” his father mocked, a rough, cawing sound that always grated on Severus’ ears.

“Since you forgot to send a carriage to fetch me, I spent the night at the Leaky Cauldron before Flooing in this morning,” Severus murmured, deliberately making his voice as soft and as musical as he could, which always seemed to annoy his father intensely.

Snape hissed and leaned forward, stabbing a finger at his son’s chest.  The magical equivalent poked Severus hard enough to bruise his breastbone.  “And who with?  A friend?  Probably a male friend - or should I say a ‘boyfriend’ - perchance?  I warned you about dallying with boys and coupling with them like some sort of animal!  Disgusting… tainted… filthy…!  Aaugh!  Words fail me!  I should have killed you with that bitch that bore you when I had the chance!  You disgust me!”  Spittle flew in foaming strings from his mouth as Thaddeus worked himself into a lather.  “We’ve heard rumours about you, boy,” his father hissed softly, lunging forward to grab a handful of his stubbly hair and dragging his head back so that his neck felt it was going to break.  “You’ve been doing dirty things with other filthy boys, haven’t you?  Letting them do dirty things to you too, I’ll be bound.  I told you last time I caught you abusing yourself that I wouldn’t stand for it ever again.  One of these days you are going to produce for us a real heir to the Family and I will not let your interest in your own sex jeopardise that for anything.  I swore that if you ever went near a boy again I would punish you.  You know I am a man of my word, and that I am going to have to punish you, don’t you?  And there is nothing you can do to stop me, is there?”

Severus prayed to whatever gods were watching over him that the poison he had been systematically feeding his father over the years would kick in as his father uncoiled the whip he always kept under his chair.  However, it was not to be.  Magic, more potent than anything his father had ever flung at him suddenly snapped out.  His arms and legs were torn apart tossing him spread-eagled face down on the flagstones as the first whistling crack of the whip sang out over his back.  Turning his head ever so slightly, Severus caught a glimpse of Luke’s horrified expression as the first blow landed; making him jump, but not a squeak escaped his tightly gripped lips.  He had learned long ago that to cry or scream only prolonged the attacks, that any sign of weakness on his part only encouraged his father to go further and harder.

All he could do now was hang on and endure as best he could until his consciousness left him or his father gave up.  He had learned to ignore his relatives’ gloating and the other small cruelties they heaped upon him whenever they felt safe enough to do so.  He had also learned to go deep inside his own mind, away from the terror of whatever position he happened to find himself in at any given moment, to find his peaceful centre and dwell there until the horror was over.

Finally, it was over but Severus was completely unconscious, his father red-faced and panting, his breath laboured and harsh in the silence his mad fury had engendered.  Everyone knew that a single noise could make them the next target of choice.  Turning away, Thaddeus Snape signalled that the bloodied chunk of flesh could be disposed of.  Luke glanced at his father who had sat in stony silence during the beating then over to where his father’s cousins, his courtesy uncles were actually laughing and gossiping, ignoring the boy lying on the floor bleeding and barely even breathing.

“What now?” he whispered almost silently, sheer horror making him shake like a leaf.

“Now we wait,” his father murmured back without moving his lips.

“For what?  Until Sev dies?”

“For… there… we are now released.  Let’s get out of here,” Acton Madrigal said flatly, gripping his son’s shoulder and Apparating them out as a small house-elf was signalled to take the half dead boy away.

“I caused that, didn’t I?” Luke whimpered later that night.  “My stupid gossip caused Severus to be nearly killed, didn’t it?”

Acton looked down at his son then sat down beside him as he had not for years.  “Luke, the major branch of the Family is rotten to the core.  Veraline was given to madness, Thaddeus was born to madness and Severus… well… if he isn’t driven to madness then it will not be for the want of his father trying.  Learn a lesson from this, Luke.  Even something that looks like harmless gossip can have horrendous results if spoken into the wrong ears, do you understand?”

“Oh Merlin, yes, more than I ever wanted to, I don’t think I will ever forget!”

Nodding, Acton kissed his son goodnight and left.

Coup de Grace 

The number three danced in Severus’ head even as his back screamed at him, as he returned to consciousness.  Three people had betrayed him, Dumbledore, Rosier and finally Madrigal.  He did not count his father as a betrayal; he had never trusted his father or his uncles, but he had thought some of his relatives were worth spitting on, but now he knew better, they were all against him, he was alone!

Something cool and soothing slid over his back and he mewled for the release of agony, letting the gentle hands pat him and pet him into ease once again.  The soft, high pitched humming and wordless, mindless singing were so familiar he could not imagine being beaten and not gaining comfort without them.  Echy was with him, tending him as always, soothing and healing him with the concoctions house-elves had handed down through the ages.  At least Echy loved him, if no one else.  He slept again.

He woke again, thirsty and painfully, puzzled that he was alone in his suite.  Usually Echy was present at all times until he was back on his feet but this time the elf was not there.  Frowning, he levered himself to his feet, a cold ball of dread building in his gut as a strange odour came to his sensitive nostrils.  It was not pleasant, reminiscent of wet earth and decaying meat and it was stronger from his sitting room as he pulled himself along toward the bedroom door.  Opening it, he realised that Madrigal had not been his third betrayal, merely an unheralded incident along the way.

As if his strings were cut, Severus slumped to the floor too devastated to even gasp.  Echy, his last living link to his mother, was carefully laid out on the hearth rug, each limb jointed, his head severed neatly from his neck, his waist from his hips.  Greenish elf blood had stained the hearth rug, his innards neatly laid out to one side.  Some idiot had tried to prepare the elf, as if for potions ingredients, but had botched the job totally, making the sacrifice useless.  The needless slaughter was a slap in the face and a mockery of everything Severus had held dear.  It was the last straw.

The screams of anguish and betrayal did not leave the confines of the suite, Severus’ wandless magic not failing him at the last.  He wept in desolation, unashamed that he shed tears for a mere elf, uncaring of the absurdity of the situation.  He had nothing left, nothing at all, his existence was….  He had nothing left, not even tears, not even humiliation as he removed every dam in his soul and released every iota of fear, anguish, terror and hurt in a long and soul deep catharsis that left him exhausted and drained on the floor of his suite.

Time passed, he didn’t know how much, he did not care.  Someone tried the door but the wards held; none could enter his private rooms.  The sun rose, the sun set, the sun continued its path through the sky, but still Severus lay unconscious on the floor until the flames of his fire turned green and a blond head poked into the room, a cheerful smile turning to shock when Lucius saw the state of the place.

“Fucking hell!” he murmured as he forced his way through the wards that were trying to hold him out.  Ignoring the stench of the decaying elf on the hearth rug, he hurried over to the boy who lay as still as death himself, casting _Acclaro_ over him.  Half healed whip wheals covered every inch of meat Lucius could see, his robes ripped to shreds.  Slightly horrified but not particularly surprised, Lucius stared around the room, spied Severus’ school trunk still packed by the bed and shook his head in disgust.  His own family was no prize, Merlin knew, but at least they let each other unpack before they attacked, and they did not let it get so far out of hand that one of them was in danger of dying from injuries received before they forgave and healed.

Only half conscious, Severus muttered and fretted until Lucius stroked his head gently.  “You’re alright, Severus, I have you,” he murmured softly to the boy.

“No I’m not, he nearly killed me this time, and he killed Echy.  That’s it, there is no one else to trust,” the boy murmured sadly.

“Hush now, Severo, I know someone you can trust, I’ll introduce you as soon as it is possible.”

“You promise?” Severus questioned naively.

“I promise you,” he reiterated as the boy went slack again.

Still shaking his head, Lucius re-shrank the trunk, popped it into his pocket, cast _levicorpus_ over Snape’s unconscious body and tossed more Floo powder into the fire.  “Malfoy London,” he intoned, Flooing through to his own flat in Chelsea where he put the boy to bed in the guest room before calling for help.


	2. Chapter 2: Promises, Promises

Floating in detached silence, the ‘Id’ that was Severus Snape looked down on the flayed meat that used to be his body and studied it curiously.  It was long and thin, not particularly pretty but sturdy, as sturdy as years of surviving abuse and torture could make it.  Long ago, Severus had learned that his body was not really his; it was merely the envelope that kept body, mind and soul together.  It was often beaten or abused by family or even strangers if his Grandmother thought an outside expert could help change it into what she wanted it to be.  Right now, it was bloody and skin free, cut with whip welts and stippled with shreds of cloth embedded in the meat.  There also seemed to be an audience around the strange room it was laying in.  That wasn’t unusual - quite the opposite - but this audience seemed to be reacting differently to the usual crowd of thrill seekers.

“Look, Son, I don’t know what you thought you were going to achieve by interfering in another Family’s business.  Merlin’s balls, Lucius, he’s almost dead and if he does die here, there will be a huge stink with the Ministry.”

“And that precludes me from trying to save a friend?” Lucius mocked bitterly.

Severus thought Lucius was being overly sentimental but then thought perhaps it would be nice to have a friend.  Unfortunately, the Snape mind, controller of the three-part being that made up Severus Ibrim Snape, kicked in and laughed at his pretensions.  _‘A friend, what use was a friend, except to betray us at a later date?’_   Had he not learned anything from the last twelve months?  Friends, lovers, mentors, they were all temporary, never a permanent or trustworthy part of his life.

The last part finally took a hand in the discussion, soothing the other two members of the triad Severus Ibrim Snape.  He had always known where his soul lived, an amorphous internal mass that was analogous to the spine but rested between spine and heart, running from brain to coccyx and then around into his prick.  When he finally separated, it would unfurl and take on the shape of his flesh as ghosts usually did, but he knew it would be darkness, not the pale grey representations that usually made up ghosts.  This would hold true unless he found his soulmate, and he would know who that was because that soul would fill the hollows in his and he would fill the hollows in theirs.  Snape was not religious, this was simply the conclusions his mind had drawn over the years, having studied the question on many occasions.  Quite regularly, the philosophical discussions he held with himself had been the only things that kept him together in the sea of pain he had been driven into by the various spells and punishments he suffered at his grandmother’s and father’s hands.  He thought he was remarkably sane, all in all considered.

“ _Of course you are sane,_ ” the mind said flatly, _“probably more sane than anyone deserves to be.  Only by preserving ourselves as three separate parts can we endure the life we have been forced to survive.  Severus the meat will heal, it always does, Ibrim the soul will absorb the blackness and use it to fuel the protection and Snape the mind will analyse and protect the rest as best it may.  Be quiet now, something is happening.”_

 

~~*~~

 

“My Lord, I did not know you were coming!”  Abraxas Malfoy almost prostrated himself before the tall, charismatic figure who stepped out of the fireplace at Malfoy Manor.  “Please, have this chair; it is the most comfortable in the Manor.  May I have refreshment brought to you, a footstool, anything?  Let me apologise for the mess and not being ready to greet you as is fitting!”

Smiling benignly, the Lord took the offered seat and glanced around the study curiously.  He usually only came on formal occasions and had not seen the Manor when not dressed for company.  The formal and most proper study was strewn with books and papers, an empty glass abandoned on the floor by the couch, a copy of the Daily Prophet tossed carelessly on a table.  Even the very formal Lord Malfoy was in his under-robes, the sleeves rolled up his forearms and the buttons of his collar gaping.  “Don’t apologise, Abraxas, it’s nice to know you can relax sometimes and I apologise for intruding on your precious moments.”  Such nicety and sincerity were the trademarks the Lord operated under.  “I do beg pardon for my unannounced arrival but it did seem important to Lucius when he sent the owl.”

“Lucius?  What is that boy up to now,” Abraxas snapped in exasperation.  “I am sorry, my Lord, he does get the oddest fantasies into his mind when he has a cause,” the old man said fondly, shaking his head.  “Youth, it is so wasted on the young, is it not?”

The Lord laughed his agreement but was not put off his quest.  “So what has Lucius been up to that has caused such upset?”

“He’s been interfering in another Family’s business.  Oh, it’s that Snape boy, of course.  He was badly beaten by his father and left to die in his rooms, but Lucius had to go and bring him to the town apartment despite the prognosis.  Well, he has been hovering between life and death ever since, no matter what they do, there doesn’t seem to be enough magic in the mediwizards’ arsenal to counteract the drainage on his resources.  The boy is dying and there will be terrible repercussions if he does, especially from the Ministry, you know how it goes!”  Abraxas shook his head as he stared into the fire, only too happy to unburden himself to the sympathetic figure seated across from him.  “Don’t mistake me, I do sympathise with the boy’s plight, but to interfere in another Family’s business, well, that is a breach of ethics I am most anxious not to explore.”

“Perhaps we _should_ explore it, after all Family Snape is a Pure-blood family, is it not?  Ah, vampires in the line?  Still, vampires are pure-bloods too - much as are Veela - so we can count them as pure.  The boy is at Lucius’ flat, is he?  Perhaps I shall visit.  After all, Lucius did mention the boy at the last reception and told me he was brilliant at Potions, remarkably so, for one so young.”  There was a question in the statement and Abraxas nodded agreement.  “Very well, I will take my leave and let you go back to your crossword puzzle.”  He indicated the paper on the side table with a smile and a nod.  “Twenty three down is ‘parallax’, I believe,” he murmured as he Flooed out.

 

~~*~~

 

Lucius sighed and rubbed his face, trying to muster some enthusiasm for his next appointment.  Thank Merlin it would soon be Christmas!  The last appointment had been draining, to say the least.  Breton Grindwind was annoying, a constant nagging thorn in the side.  He had moments of sheer genius floating in a lake of mediocre competence.  All he had to do was make sure the Malfoy imports passed through Muggle customs and were delivered to the warehouses for storage on time and intact.  Could he do that?  No!  Again, a shipment of African rare woods had been intercepted by some idiotic Muggle and, instead of simply _Obliviating_ her; the stupid fool had had her killed!  Now the Muggle authorities were investigating the death of the girl and scrutinising the Malfoy warehouse a little too hard for his liking.  Sighing deeply, Lucius assigned a crack team of ‘normalising’ wizards to the warehouse problem and decided that Grindwind’s brilliance was no longer outweighed by his stupidity.  He had to be replaced.

Hard on the heels of that decision came the thought that someone had to be appointed to his place and that set off another train of thought all together.  Competence was such a difficult thing to judge, totally dependent on the circumstances around it.  People who shone in one set of circumstances floundered ineffectually in another.  Healers who were touted as the best of their times failed abysmally when confronted with a badly tortured boy.  For days, Severus had lain as still as death, barely breathing and barely alive, but none of the very expensive and highly trained mediwizards he had brought in could do anything for Severo.  One had even said that, if the boy healed, he would never recover his spirit because ‘ _he acted as if he had been kissed by a Dementor_ ’.

Oddly enough, no matter how much magic they filled him with and potions they rubbed onto his wounds, the skin never regenerated, the meat remaining raw and bloody.  Lucius had seen a number of skinned Muggles in his time and had participated in many an evening of casual torture, but he had never seen anyone simply survive being treated like that before.  Usually, they died in screaming agony after a few hours, but not Severus Snape, he just lay there, moaning occasionally if someone was careless in handling him but never awakening, never dying, just suspended between one state and the other.

Oh well, tonight he would get that witch from Knockturn Alley to look at Severo and see if she could work the miraculous cure she boasted of.  If not, he would extract a fitting price!  About to call for his next appointment, Lucius stiffened and rose hurriedly, someone had just removed all the warding charms from his flat.  His home was invaded!

 

~~*~~

 

Severus, Ibrim and Snape were content.  It was a strange sort of arrangement, the three parts of the being dwelling as separate entities on the plane they came to when the burdens of their life became too much to bear.  Severus the body was badly injured but large influxes of magic held it in stasis so it could survive.  Ibrim the soul cocooned the damaged body, keeping it safe from invasion by unfriendly spirits while Snape the mind watched over all three of them, guarding and warding, keeping them safe within the fortress it had build over the years.  A number of witches and wizards had assaulted their stronghold; trying to haul them out and force them to participate in some ritual or another, but the strength of mind that had always kept Snape safe resisted all their brute force and ignorance.

They dwelled in contentment until a new presence made itself felt very gently.  The threefold being stiffened warily, but this new intruder was different.  He didn’t storm the gates, nor did he throw random magic at them in an effort to force a change.  Instead, he stood at the gate and held out his hands in a universal signal for peace.  Snape studied him closely; noting he was solid and real, black-haired, blue-eyed and handsome.  Cautiously, Snape allowed the stranger’s greeting to touch the three of them lightly, ready to withdraw at the first sign of coercion.

“Hello, I’m Tom, who are you?” the stranger asked guilessly.

The three parts had a quick conference.  “I am Snape, that is Severus and this is Ibrim.”

“It’s nice to meet you all.  Where are we now?”

“This is my place, my castle,” Snape said matter-of-factly.  “This is where we live.”

“Ah, a fine castle indeed, may I come in?” Tom asked, standing perfectly still until the triad had conferred then slowly, as if a great gate was cracking open, the closed mind before him allowed a sliver of entry to be seen.  The _Legilimens_ did not rush forward but ‘walked’ sedately into the forecourt of the huge fortress he perceived, seeing a lanky, pale boy before him.  “Hello, nice to meet you at last.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed and he sent his own questing tendril of _Legilimency_ out toward the newcomer who allowed it in a fraction.  Ibrim was allowed to see the boy the man had been, struggling against a system that held him in thrall too, clawing and fighting his way out until he could survive in the real world as a powerful and successful figure.  Ibrim withdrew to consult with the others, and Tom allowed it, somewhat amazed at the strength of mind the boy showed.  He was quite sure he could destroy the boy’s shielding but that would defeat the purpose of his visit.  He wanted this vast and complex mind for his own use, wanted to know how the boy could split himself in three without sinking into total madness.  The being Severus Ibrim Snape was fascinating!  Untrained in conventional Occlumency or Legilimency, he was strong in a raw, unfettered way that held the promise of much bigger and better things to come.  If he could be coaxed out of his coma, he would be an asset worthy of much support.

“You can come in,” the boy said suddenly, making Tom start.  He had thought he was inside the boy’s mind, but suddenly yet another door opened and he was led into what appeared to be a potions laboratory complete with things Tom had never seen before.  The pale lad bent over a cauldron and stirred carefully before straightening to look at him though the veil of steam.  “Why did you seek me out?” he asked casually, gliding over to a bench and hitching a hip onto the stool there, indicating Tom should take the other.

“Your friend Lucius asked me to meet you, but when I came to see you, you had been beaten and had lapsed into a coma from which it looked as if you would never recover,” Tom answered honestly.

“Ah, a coma then.  We have decided that we don’t like the ‘real world’ and that it is better just to stay here and work on our potions rather than let that bastard exercise his temper on us whenever he feels like it.  We don’t want to live as he dictates and we don’t want to suffer his anger whenever he feels like it.  We are safe here and no one can touch us ever again.”  The boy crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

Tom hid a smile.  “I can touch you,” he said playfully and reached out to stroke the boy’s stubble of hair.  “You should grow that longer; it would look very nice on you.”

“So my father can anchor me down by it?  No, thank you, shaved is fine.”  He ducked out from under the large hand as quickly as a snake and put the stool between them.

“What if I could promise he would never hurt you again, that if you came back you would be protected and sponsored, and that you could go to your Potions School in peace with no fear of being attacked or bullied ever again?”

Obviously, the boy was a complete cynic for he snorted laughter, as bitter as gall and far older than his real or apparent age.  “And I can make Muggles do magic too,” he snapped angrily, a force suddenly hitting Tom in the chest and making him stagger backwards.  The boy was powerful!

Tom resisted, holding steady without moving while the boy vented his spleen on him, throwing every iota of anger and fury at the figure in his mind until he drooped, leaning against the bench to pant, a hand wiping away tears furiously.  “I am stronger than you,” Tom said quietly, returning calmness for anger and noting the aborted flinch the boy gave.  This one would come to hand for a gentle touch, be led but not driven, and he would be incredibly loyal if he chose to bind himself to the cause.  There was evidence in his core of fanaticism, that once loyalty was won, it would stay won, if not forever, then through more pressure than most men withstood.  In fact, the man thought privately, this was the loyalty of a female variety, very rare in men and very hard to control.  Interesting!

The figure changed, becoming finer featured, more idealised but less substantial.  This was Ibrim, not Snape and a different personality almost.  “You make promises but how do we know you can keep them?  Severus has been hurt so many times in the past by people who were supposed to love and cherish him.  People who were supposed to protect him have done him more damage than those who were his loudly proclaimed enemies.  What makes you so different?  And how can we trust you?”

“I am both Tom and Lord Voldemort – Ah I see you have heard my name before – I give you my word that, if you give me your loyalty, I will protect you and sponsor you on the path you choose.”  He offered his hand again and Ibrim took it, a feeling of seeking and movement invading Tom’s person, deeper than any had penetrated his mind before.  He endured the seeking, holding those barriers he dared not release, allowing the boy access to parts of his mind no other follower had ever touched.  It was a giant risk but the odds were stacked well in his favour or Tom would never have risked such a thing.

Ibrim withdrew and Snape returned, more relaxed, less wary and more open as he turned to stir another cauldron, dipping a finger to taste the brew.  Tom dared to approach and peer into the depths too, raising an inquiring eyebrow.  “It’s a variant of the normal healing potion, more efficient and with less side affects.  The stuff they brew at St Mungo’s is appallingly bad, and if the patient has any sensitivity to any of the ingredients it can be fatal.  This one will counteract most bad reactions and if it can’t, it will self-neutralise immediately.”

“You can do that?” Tom was moved to ask incredulously.

“Yes,” Snape said matter-of-factly.  “It’s just a matter of balance.  Can’t you?”

“I don’t think anyone else in the world could, which is why we need you, Severus Ibrim Snape, whole and hale and with us out there.  Will you join us?”

“Do I have your assurance of support?  Will you help heal and ward Severus?” Snape demanded, almost forcing compliance by strength of will alone.

“I promise you a Mark of my favour and my full support in your ambition.  You have my word in it!”  Again, Tom held out his hand and this time Snape took it, pumping once as they stared into each other’s eyes.  “Here, let me show you what I can do for you.”  Tom slid his hand further up Severus’ left forearm, covering the soft skin there with his large palm.

Severus writhed as the hand burned, but it was a good, almost sexual burning that travelled from his arm up to his brain and down into his soul.  Ibrim resisted but finally allowed the seeking tendrils of Binding to wrap into some parts of itself, keeping it out of others that the tendrils didn’t even seem to realise were there.  Other tendrils of power snaked out and wrapped around Snape, drawing him into the web the older wizard was weaving.  Again, only selected parts of the Snape were enmeshed, others standing aloof from the proceedings and watching disinterestedly.  Finally, the palm moved and the long fingers drew careful patterns on the skin, each finger leaving a black line after it, embedded deep in Severus’ flesh.

“That is my Mark and my promise to you, Severus Ibrim Snape, you will no longer have to fear your father or your family, you are my man now, and your Severus persona is already healing to my will.”

Snape checked and felt the new skin flowing over his flesh, unblemished and smooth except for the forearm that held an indelible tattoo.

“So it is Agreed,” he acknowledged his new sponsor with a nod.

“Agreed!”

 

~~*~~

 

Lucius burst into his spare room, wand at the ready, only to stumble to a stop, gaping in shock.  Lord Voldemort himself had laid a hand on Severus’ brow, a look of deep concentration on his face as he bent.  Even as Lucius dropped to one knee, the Lord straightened, a soft ‘Agreed’ falling from his lips, echoed by Severus on the bed.

Straightening, Lord Voldemort smiled down at Lucius, waving a chair forward.  “I have met your friend here, a remarkable young man.  He should be waking soon and healing of course.  What a fascinating and complex mind he has, incredible for one so young.  You should treasure him.”

The great man patted Lucius on the head and rose to Apparate, ignoring the wards set to stop such an event from happening.  Lucius merely gaped at the empty spot for a long second then crossed quickly to the bed as Severus stirred and groaned painfully.

“Has he gone then?” Severus asked, coughing a little as Lucius gave him some water.  “Pity, he seemed rather intelligent.  Listen, Lucius, any chance of making a brew for me?  I’d do it myself but…”

Lucius laughed and bent to kiss the sliver of cheek he could reach.  “You and your potions, my Severo!  Gods below, man, I was worried about you, don’t ever do this to me again.  We have to get you healed up and back on your feet as soon as possible.”

“That’s alright, Lucius, he promised to keep me safe so we have all the time in the world now, provided he keeps his promise.”

“He will, Severus, he will.  After all, he has Marked you as his own.”

They both studied the Dark Mark on Severus’ forearm with knowing smiles.


	3. Dark Salvation

  
Author's notes:

Chapter Notes:  Severus finds love and acceptance in the Malfoy household which carries him through the remains of his year six and year seven.  He is confirmed as his father’s Heir on his seventeenth birthday and as Head of Family Snape on the death of his father.  Professor Dumbledore tries to reach him but it is too little, too late and so Snape graduates Hogwarts and prepares to go to Potions College.

* * *

Christmas

 

The Christmas holiday had been far too short, only three days, so Lucius decided to leave work early; being the owner’s son, and current Leading Light of Malfoy Enterprises, that did not present a problem.  Apparating home to his flat in Chelsea, Lucius glanced around and smiled to himself.  Severus had been in residence for only five days and already he had made his mark on the place, a Potions textbook on the coffee table, some sort of stirring rod abandoned on the sideboard.  Last night, the boy had been as skittish as a wild colt but in the next couple of days, Lucius planned to tame him to hand and that would be more than worth the effort.

When he had Apparated the half dead bundle of meat out of Snape Manor at the beginning of the Christmas holidays his father had been furious.  No one interfered in Family business, especially not outsiders.  Fortunately, Lord Voldemort had been curious about Severo and his uncanny ability with potions and had taken an interest in the case.  He had healed the up-and-coming young Potions genius, who had been literally skinned alive, drawing him out of his coma with a promise of protection.

It had taken quite some effort to get young Snape back on his feet, many spells, healing potions and sheer hard work to carefully replenish the missing blood and re-grow the lost skin from the few remnants left on his body.  Even the Dark Lord had lent a hand when it looked as if the boy was going to die after all, adding his own vast energy to the input from the healer they had brought in privately.  For a few moments on that afternoon Lucius had thought he saw pity in the Lord’s eyes, also empathy, then the rich blue eyes had held only academic interest as he asked after Severus’ health.  Finally, Severus had turned the corner and lived, but it was a quiet, intense, silent living that was so innately furious that it burned in his eyes and almost incinerated anyone who cared to look closely.  Oh yes, Severus was full of suppressed fire and it would be one hell of an experience to tap into that passion.

Checking the time, Lucius swirled a cloak over his robes and Apparated out.

 

~~*~~

 

The solicitor’s office was cool and dim, the smell of old leather and expensive brandy overlaying the smell of dusty parchment.  At one end of the table sat Thaddeus Snape, at the other sat his Heir Severus Snape with Malfoy Senior and Junior bracketing him.  The Snape solicitor and the Malfoy solicitor sat in the middle at opposite sides of the table and both knew this was going to be one very rough handover.

“Severus Ibrim Snape, at the tenth hour, on this ninth day of January, you will be seventeen years old, an adult in your own right.  Are you prepared to uphold the laws, rights and responsibilities of the position as Heir to the Family?”

“Yes.”  The single word hissed out low and long drawn, caressing the ear and wrapping around the spine.

“Thaddeus Hieronymus Snape, at the tenth hour, on this ninth day of January, your son will be seventeen years old, an adult in his own right.  Are you prepared to confirm his rights and responsibilities in the position of Heir to the Family within law?

Snape Senior wanted to say no; he was desperate to say ‘no’, but the word ‘yes’ came out of his mouth, much to his fury.  He glared bitterly at the boy at the other end of the table, his black hair beginning to frame his face and curl at the ends, longer than it had ever been while under his roof.  Even his robes were an expensive green and silver set, patterned after those worn by the Malfoys, the perfect bum-toy and tool for Malfoy Junior.  But how had they cast this spell on him?  Thaddeus snarled, he had been protected by all manner of spells and artefacts to ward off curses, mind altering magic and other phenomena after the first time he had been caught by an enemy.  Yet here he was, dancing like a puppet on a string of will pulled by the Malfoy duo.  He ground his teeth in fury when the bloody solicitor handed him a quill and he actually drew his own blood to sign the documents confirming that piece of shite as his legal and magical Heir.  The blood of the Junior Snape and the Senior Snape mingled on the parchment and completed the cycle of spells and contracts begun at Severus’ Naming Ceremony.

As the last flourish was completed, the spell on Thaddeus snapped and he roared in fury as he stabbed the parchment with the quill.  Severus merely smiled enigmatically as he watched his father rip the documents into a thousand tiny pieces but it was too late, the magic inherent in the sign-over needed no parchment to prove its existence.  His utter contempt for the man who had sired him flowed out in a palpable wave, lapping at the two solicitors who were hurriedly gathering the tools of their trade in an effort to get out of the middle of the impending explosion.

The bolt of pure magic slammed into the door as they shut it, deflected by a wandless hand.  Thaddeus snarled again, pulling his wand and roaring a spell only to find himself flung backward and pinned to the wall by his own muscles.  Where was the magic coming from that it could do such things to him despite the precautions he had taken so diligently?  He must have spoken aloud because Severus smirked, a Malfoy smirk indeed.

“Next time you are dining at your leisure, be careful what you drink.  You know I can brew death in a bottle, so brewing liquid Imperio is no great feat,” his son jeered softly, his voice an odd mix of smooth velvet and rough ice.

“You… you can do that?”

“I can do _anything_ with potions,” Severus said flatly, not bragging merely stating facts.  “I am now confirmed as Heir so beware, _Father_ , I will be planning to inherit very soon.”  He rose to his full height, a good three inches taller than his father and bowed punctiliously, Lucius bowing too as he followed the younger man out.

Abraxas Malfoy paused to lift Thaddeus’ chin with one long finger.  “Congratulations Thaddeus, you have given us a wonderful recruit to our cause, a powerful brewer of potions and a devoted worshipper of our Lord.  Congratulations and again, thank you,” he mocked as he left the man frozen in place, unable to control his own body despite the fury coursing through his veins.

 

~~*~~

 

“Can you really do that?  Brew liquid Imperio, I mean?” Lucius asked late that night as they sat curled up on the sofa before the fire.

Severus sighed and turned his head to drop a kiss on Lucius’ temple.  “Why, do you think I have put it in your whiskey?” he asked with a droll note in his voice.

Lucius blinked, giving the question some thought before shaking his head slightly.  “No, I do what I do because I want to do it.  If I was under the Imperius Curse, I would have to agree with everything you said, and I seem to remember disagreeing strenuously over that atrocious waistcoat you were about to squander far too many galleons on.”

Severus chuckled, sending a shiver down Lucius’ spine.  Since the beating, Severus’ voice had changed a lot, his throat having been severely damaged by a whip cut.  The repair had lowered and softened his tones giving it a hard bite under a layer of smooth whiskey honey.  It was sexy as hell and if Severus ever realised it, they were all in trouble.  Unfortunately, Severus had an inferiority complex as big as the whole of Snape Manor, well seated by his father’s cruel treatment.  But the topic was liquid Imperio.  “So why did your father do as you commanded him?  He really wanted to disinherit you as Heir, and he really wanted to command you to go back home but he failed on both counts.”

“I’m not sure why,” Severus mused.  “I have been feeding him discrete amounts of poison for years, I must admit, but nothing even vaguely resembling a will sapping potion.  I think, and I may be totally wrong here, I think that the things belonging to the Family Snape cannot be used too overtly against the Heir, even if it is the current Head of Family who tries to command it so.  And I also think…” Severus paused to take a sip of whiskey before he voiced his radical thought.  “… I think the house-elves are responsible for a number of his miscast spells and my well crafted protections.”

“The house-elves?  Now you are being silly, Severo,” Lucius sniggered then grinned as Severus stiffened at his side.  “Now, now, don’t poker up, if that is what you want to believe then who am I to disagree.  Stranger things have happened.  Oh well, enough on this topic, how about tomorrow we go visit your mother’s property and see what you have inherited?”

“It’s in Spain,” Severus said in surprise.

“So?  A few days in a warmer climate will do you the world of good, get some healthy pink back into your face.  You have never regained your colour since the beating.  You barely even blush now.”

“And you want to see me blush?” Severus asked, cocking an eyebrow at the blond who smirked back suggestively.

“Oh yes, right down to your balls, actually.”

Severus sniggered at his lascivious look and dragged him into a kiss.  “So let’s get started.”

 

~~*~~

 

Mid Sixth Year

 

The twentieth of January saw the welcoming feast in full swing, Professor Dumbledore greeting the returning students and hoping they had had a good holiday.  Snape sat with the other sixth-years, silent, still and expressionless, a deep grimness casting a cold aura around him.  The others of his year slowly moved away from him, uneasiness crawling up their spines.  Severus had always been something of an enigma, but now there was a palpable air of fury around him.  Something had obviously happened to him over the holidays but no one had any idea what it might be.

When Dumbledore announced the school would be providing Apparation lessons for all those eligible, there was an excited whisper around the hall.  The Marauders exchanged excited looks, Black smirking as he realised he was already well trained in Apparation and one up on both friends and rivals.  Snape made no reaction one way or the other, sitting in his self imposed stillness, eating sparingly of the sumptuous banquet.  When the students were dismissed to their own houses, Severus rose, looking neither left nor right, and glided away, his school robes billowing around him.

A number of eyes watched him leave the hall, both friend and foe.  Black and Potter glared, already planning new moves and new torments to try on the Slytherin.  Pettigrew looked speculative, having heard lots of rumours flying around the wizarding world.  Lupin was curious about what had changed the usually indifferent or even slightly bored Slytherin into such a grim and humourless pillar of darkness.  He had never hated Snape, not like Sirius and James did, and after the Shrieking Shack incident he had taken to speaking with him on odd occasions, but now there was no animation in the cold, pale face, a walking illustration of a vampire.

Dumbledore had heard the rumours too, and had been aware of the scandal that rocked the pure-blood families over the near murder of an Heir to the Family.  It was very rare that Dumbledore agreed with Abraxas Malfoy and Ebenezer Mulciber, but in their handling of Thaddeus Snape, he could only applaud their stand.  He wasn’t entirely sure how the Malfoys and Mulcibers had become aware of the problem, but he knew they had convinced Snape to treat his son with something approaching human care.  When he had tried to talk to Thaddeus himself, Albus had been told to keep his self-righteous nose out of Family Business!  He planned to have a little chat with Severus Snape as soon as was practical.

Severus let himself into his room in the dormitory and locked the door with a double charm before allowing his back to twitch and his shoulders to slump.  Wearing the heavy wool school robes was still very hard on his newly healed flesh and if he didn’t hold himself straight and move with as little jerking as possible, even the silk shirt he wore underneath his robes tore at the delicate new flesh.  He had cast cooling charms over his robes to try to stop his newly healed skin from sweating and itching.  After all, his father had virtually peeled every scrap of skin off his body, leaving only a few layers on his chest and thighs where they had been pressed into the flagstones.  It had taken some very fancy wand work to put him back together again this time, even after the intervention of the world’s most powerful lord.

Slipping out of his clothes, Severus sighed in relief and grabbed the pot of ointment he had supervised Lucius in brewing as he could not stand the heat of the cauldron just yet.  It was quite hard to smear it on by himself but his arms were long and his shoulders supple so he managed to coat most of his skin before he slipped the especially charmed nightshirt over his head and crawled into his bed.  He was exhausted despite the fact that almost three weeks had passed since the attack, three weeks of healing and pain and fury at the betrayals he had suffered.  Waving a hand at the candles he plunged his room into darkness and fell asleep almost instantly.

 

~~*~~

 

Dumbledore offered tea to his visitor, holding his surprise and uneasiness at bay as he graciously hosted his guest.  Thaddeus Snape certainly didn’t act as if he wanted to be in the same room as the headmaster, and sipping tea in a civilised manner was obviously very far from his real wants or needs.  Finally, the conventions satisfied, both men put down their cups and Snape glared.  He wasn’t as good at it as his son was; Albus noted irreverently as he folded his hands and prepared to wait the parent out.

“You are to treat the boy gently,” Thaddeus finally spat out.  “He had an ‘accident’ in the holidays.  He has nearly recovered but is still a little delicate.  He is to go to Malfoy Manor for the Summer Holidays and needs no more permission slips to do as he pleases, he is of age.”

Albus noted the sweat on the man’s brow and the halts and stutters in his speech, his blue eyes narrowing speculatively.  Snapes and Malfoys had never been that good of friends that one would relinquish a child to the other, especially not the Heir to the Family.  “Really, Thaddeus, is that truly your wish?” he asked, surreptitiously casting a revealing spell and almost dropping his teaplate when the flare of the Imperius Curse impacted on his sight.  The implications were horrendously complicated and Albus refrained from acting on his first instinct to break the curse immediately.

“If the little man-whore never sets foot in Snape Manor again, it will be too soon!”  That came out fast and hard with the hissed conviction of bitter fury.  “To think a Snape of Snape would stoop so low as to….  Unnatural droppings of a diseased womb, off-spring of dung, should have killed him when I had the chance….”  The vitriolic ramblings trailed off into indistinct mutterings, then the man’s head snapped up again.  “I must go, I’ll leave him in your charge, speak to Malfoy if he needs something.”  The man rose abruptly and fled.

Shocked and somewhat horrified, Albus Dumbledore found himself complicit in the use of the Imperius Curse for the very first time in his life.  What had that madman done to Severus that caused the most self-absorbed family in the whole of Pure-blood England to intervene?  Puzzled and torn between law and compassion, Dumbledore resolved to wait and see.

 

~~*~~

 

Summer, end of Sixth Year

 

Severus and Lucius had spent the summer on the continent, roaming though France and Italy, taking a slow boat down the Rhine River then contrasting it with an equally slow trip down the river Nile.  They had bumped into an archaeologist from Gringotts bank called Roland Hampstead, a personable young man with a thatch of long brown hair who had cheerfully shown them around the dig near the great pyramid, Khufu.  Severus had spent a lot of time discussing embalming and the Ancient’s beliefs in preserving the bodies for resurrection.  Lucius had been a little jealous of the instant rapport the two young men built, but it was to him Severus came at the end of the day, happy and excited, slightly sunburned and full of energy to be used up in the best possible way.

Still, as much as the history fascinated Severus, the Egyptian climate was too much for him and after passing out in a most undignified manner, he asked Lucius to take them back to Spain, and his mother’s house.  The villa in the Pyrenees Mountains was small and walled; a charming retreat and place to recover from the rigours of their holiday jaunt.  Both young men settled into the sleepy pace of village life, even Lucius relaxing enough to forgo his gloves and cloak, leaving his robes open in European fashion.  They went shopping personally in the village shops for bread and olives and imported fish.  At the small, dusty winery they found vintage reds and exquisitely crisp whites hauled up from the valleys of France.

Exploring the house and the attics, Severus found a wonderful silver and rosewood sword stick with a missing blade, smooth as satin and glowing with the patina of age and wear.  Cleaning it carefully, he realised - as it broke in half - that there was a small hole in the handle, rather than a slit.  It only took him a moment to realise it was a wand grip and the stick was not missing a blade at all.  The silver snakehead that made up the handle was infinitely detailed; every scale engraved and polished until it looked as if it could come alive.  Experimentally, Severus put his own wand’s grip into the hole and almost dropped the thing when the snake head animated and hissed at him.  Shaking his head, he removed his wand and carefully shrouded the stick in concealment charms.

Lucius was thrilled with the present Severus gave him, putting his wand straight into the holder, utterly delighted when the snake came to life and wove a charmed dance under his hand as he stroked its head.  Severus was happy that his present had pleased his lover, their lovemaking sweet and complex that night.

The last week of the holidays was idyllic for both young men, a gathering of spirit before Severus had to return to Hogwarts for his seventh year and Lucius to the board room where he was being given more and more responsibility by his aging father.

 

~~*~~

 

The Head of Family

 

The owl came on the last few days of the holidays, while they lounged semi-naked in the garden, a great black eagle-owl bearing a black parchment attached to its leg.  Lucius was half fearful that it was for him but the owl bypassed his raised arm and landed before Severus impatiently.  Taking the parchment, Severus broke the seal and read the message with a growing spark of gloating.

“Well?” Lucius asked curiously.

“It seems my father has finally succumbed to his passions.”  Severus smirked to his lover, crawling over the grass to flop down with his head on Lucius’ belly, waving the message under his nose.  “It says he burst a blood vessel while engaged in physical activity.  I could interpret that as lost his temper and blew his brain out.  I wonder what he was doing.  Could be interesting to find out,” Severus mused as Lucius stroked his hair back petting him as he plucked the paper out of Severus’ fingers and read it through.

“You realise this makes you Head of Family?” Lucius said thoughtfully, tapping him on the nose with the parchment.

Severus chuckled, snapping the paper out of his lover’s hands and rolled over to prop his chin on his hand.  “I suppose so, do you care?”

Lucius grinned and shook his head just a little.  “You are still my Severo, regardless of anything else you are; Potions nerd, skinny brat and beautiful man.”

Severus tickled him in retaliation.  “Still, I suppose I will have to do something to exercise my rights as the king of the hill or my stupid uncles will make some attempt to dominate the family and squander the disposable funds.  How tedious!  Oh well, let’s go home tomorrow, I really can’t be bothered to move today.”

Lucius hauled him closer and kissed him fiercely.  “Very well, tomorrow.”

 

~~*~~

 

Severus dressed with care, allowing Lucius to dictate his style and colours.  He ended up dressed in black leather and velvet, a deep hooded black cloak hiding his face and swirling most satisfactorily around his heavy black boots.  His only jewellery was his Heir’s ring, the seal ring he had received when he was born.  Lucius accompanied him as they Apparated to the grounds of Snape Manor where the Family was already gathering to carve up the estate and feast on the spoils.

The Great Hall was filled with chattering, laughing people, eddies swirling through the crowd as alliances were brokered and broken, cousins ganging up against half cousins then alliances to be split by both the distaff or the cadet branches.  Severus leaned against a pillar close to the double doors watching with keen black eyes as his nearest and dearest planned on how to destroy many centuries of inbreeding and genetic planning.  At his side, Lucius watched in fascination as many variations of his best boy stood, gossiped and moved, plotting and planning Merlin only knew what.

As far as the beginnings of a funeral went, this one was unusual in the lack of sentiment.  Before the dais, laid on a bier draped in black and gold, lay the body of the dearly departed, the purplish hue to his face still visible despite all the spells and charms of the Necromantic Wizards efforts.  At his feet, his funeral brazier burned with a clear, smokeless flame, lit originally within an hour of his death.  Severus wondered who had been on the ball enough to light it as his father had no friends as far as he knew.  Probably one of his uncles, the little voice in the back of his head commented irreverently, as his uncle Hector took to the dais and cast Sonorous on himself.

“Harken to me, oh Family Snape, as head of this family, I bring us toge--”  He choked and coughed, the sonorous spell collapsing as his face turned blue.

Severus moved away from the shadow of the pillar and seemed to materialise in the centre of the aisle.  His soundless glide made people draw back, his cold aura driving them back even further as he stalked past his father’s body, ignoring it totally as he glared at his uncle in disgust.

“Exaggerating, Hector, as usual,” he drawled, his velvety-sharp voice carrying without the use of a spell.

“Listen, you disgusting little arse f--” he began, but Severus turned and pushed a hand in his direction.  The wandless magic slammed into his uncle flinging him across the hall and slamming him back-first into the carved stone work of the nearest buttress.  His wife let out a shriek of horror as a stone gargoyle snapped the body out of the air and broke his spine in half.

“I am Severus Ibrim Snape, Named and Sealed Heir to the Family Snape, now Head of this accursed Family.  This is my father’s funeral; we are here to send him on his way to the netherworlds and to send the main branch of the family along too, for it STOPS WITH ME!  There will be no more breeding for vampirism or for twisting innocents to some demented plan instigated in the Dark Ages.  So, Leonid Tremundubus, will you do your duty to your past Master?  Burn the bastard!”

The timid Master of Rites crept forward under the tall, intimidatingly grim youth’s black gaze.  He was the official family ritual server, held on retainer to serve the Family in Naming, Wedding and Burials, the hatching, matching and dispatching of the Family Snape.  He glanced fearfully at the boy whom he had Named at his birth and had tried valiantly to protect to the best of his abilities during his childhood.  Stepping forward, he pulled the Book of Ritual from his robes pocket and engorged it before flicking to the correct page and beginning the cycle of spells to render the body unsuitable for resurrection no matter what spell a Dark Wizard tried.  All through the service, Severus Snape stood aloof and silent at his back ignoring the speculation flying around the hall.

Finally, the Master of Rites tossed the combustible powder over the body, saying the triggering spell to turn the body into ash then the small amount of ash was transferred to the Offering dish to be burnt completely.  As the first ritual finished, the throne-like chair was moved into place and Severus sat down on the hard, solid seat, daring anyone to make a single protest.

They didn’t, and the final step in making him Snape of Snape commenced with no more ado, the Master of Rites saying the spells and anointing his brow with the appropriate potions and oils.  Severus sat perfectly still, his cloak still over his shoulders, only the hood pulled back to allow some small access to the flesh of his forehead.

As soon as the ritual was complete, Severus stood up, the cloak covering him completely as he moved to the edge of the dais to make his first official announcement.  Malfoy wondered how he would react with the influence of the spells and oils soaking into his skin.  However, Severus proved to be immune to the whiles and magic of his Master of Rites, no Family Feeling was generated, despite the attempts of the rituals.

As he stepped to the edge of the dais, Severus was amazed when all of the massed family bowed as one, folding his arms over his chest almost by habit.  Surveying the massed family, he glared impartially at everyone, noting Lucius’ encouraging look as he mentally braced himself.

“I am now Snape of Snape, confirmed by Law and Ritual.  Do you accept me and my authority?”

The reply was somewhat tentative but growing stronger as Severus' eyes met and dominated some of his more wayward relatives.  He waited until the smattering of applause tapered off into a mildly embarrassed silence.

“The Family has been fragmented and broken by certain policies initiated by the Major branch, this will stop.  I relinquish the right to force marriages to fall in line with some obscure breeding pattern Vlad the Impaler may or may not have instigated some hundreds of years ago.”  He paused as a faint susurration of relief shuddered through the crowd.  “Marriages will be the business of the immediate family unit, to suit the immediate family unit, rather than the Family.  Next.  The policy of one man for one woman and no other coupling will be abandoned.  If you don’t like it, bad luck!  Make your own choices to suit yourselves.”

A pin dropping could have been heard in the hall as the Snape paced the edge of the dais with a long stride and slow step.  “Last but not least, you will all vacate these premises.  The Manor will no longer be inhabited by anyone but the family ghosts, do I make myself clear?  Leonid Tremundubus, you are granted the use of the cottage you now occupy with a stipend equal to your salary to cover your needs.  Any member of the Family who requires your services may contact you as they will.  That is all.  Leave!”

A cold wind swirled through the hall, pushing them away, pushing them out with growing ferocity until a fully fledged gale ripped the banners from the wall and blew the flame from the torches around the walls.  Only Severus and Lucius were left untouched by the devil winds sweeping Snape Manor clean, finally clean of all taint the Snape Family Dynasty had inflicted on the cool grey granite over the years.  Severus slumped to the platform, pulling his knees up to his chin as the doors slammed shut on the last of the Family.  Malfoy approached carefully, sitting down beside Severus and pulling his head down onto his shoulder.

“So, how do you feel now?” he asked gently, dropping a kiss on Severus’ growing black hair, the silky strands clinging to his face, tangling with his pale gold locks.

“Drained, I think,” Severus replied flatly, burrowing his head into the older youth’s shoulder and sighing against his neck.  “I am the end of the Family Snape, is that such a bad thing?”

“It was a proud family, at one time, but unfortunately, I think your Grandmother tried to breed a sort of divine madness into you.  She only succeeded in making you a total rebel though.”  Lucius assured his lover with a gently kiss.  “Greetings to the Lord of Snape from the Heir of Malfoy, welcome to the circle of Pure-blood power.”

“Thanks.”  Severus sighed and smiled, too drained to even think of the implications.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” Lucius suggested and began a side-along Apparation such as he had not done for a number of months, since Severo got his license.

 

~~*~~

 

End of Year Seven

 

“Severus, a word please.”

The voice arrested Severus on his way to his last class for the day and he turned carefully, keeping all expression from his face.  “Headmaster?”

“Come up to my office for tea, if you would be so kind,” Dumbledore said cheerfully, turning away and expecting the student to follow him.

For a moment Severus almost walked away then his natural curiosity got the better of him and he followed the old man past the gargoyle and up to the cluttered office.  Fawkes was seated on his perch, looking very much the worse for wear as they entered, but the bird seemed to perk up when it spotted the tall, dark student on his master’s heels.  Severus smiled at the gaudy bird and crossed to scratch under his beak with a long, stained finger, crooning softly.

Albus watched the small scene, wondering why Fawkes was always so glad to see the worst tempered student in the school, treating him like a favoured friend.  It was partly Fawkes’ partiality that made Albus try again and again to get the boy to warm up to him, but all his efforts seemed to be doomed to failure.  Only Fawkes ever caused the hard eyes to soften and the permanent sneer to fade to a soft, childish smile.  “He likes you,” he murmured and Severus stiffened as if only just remembering the headmaster was there.

Fawkes trilled a soft note of disappointment when the scratching stopped then stretched his neck and lifted a foot to scratch at his head.  A single feather was worked loose and Fawkes caught it, pushing it into Severus’ hand with a gentle peck on his fingers.  Staring at the feather, Severus looked up in astonishment at the bird, which proceeded to rub the side of his beak against the sleeve of Severus’ robes affectionately.

“A most favoured friend indeed,” Albus recapped, waving the boy to a seat.  “Come, have a seat.  You prefer black caravan tea, don’t you?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” the boy confirmed, folding gracefully into the chair and sitting perfectly still.  The only hint of colour around him was the bright orange feather he still held in his hand.  When the tea was poured, the boy moved again, picking up the cup and holding it without drinking.  Each movement was precise and smooth, nothing wasted, nothing given away, no fidgeting to indicate nervousness, no hurried speech, no clue to what he was thinking or feeling or even if he was thinking or feeling anything.  Severus Snape had grown to be an enigma.

“You have worked very hard, Severus, these last two years, and you have done exceptionally well in your NEWTs.  I have it on good authority that you have garnered more NEWTs at a higher level than any other student in the history of the school.  Remus Lupin ran a close second, but your Potions scores simply lifted you above everyone else.  Well done, my boy, well done.  So, what now?”

“College of Potions, Mastery then… well, I haven’t thought any further ahead, probably research and development,” Snape finally muttered ungraciously.

“Do you need any help in applying for the College of Potions Makers?” Albus offered with a benign smile.

“No, why should I?  I applied last year and was accepted, contingent on NEWTs scores.  They were high enough to put me straight into the second year, and I will be finishing second year in a few months, I’ve already edited their textbooks and given the new draft in to Lurnow’s for critique.  Third year might pose a challenge but only because I have no decent research facilities.  A pity my mother’s properties are not closer.”

“You cannot use Snape Manor?” Albus asked, knowing there were extensive laboratories under the old manor.

“No.”  The flat negative was unequivocal.

“Is there anything I, or Hogwarts, can do to foster your career?” Albus asked gently.

“You have done enough to me.”  For a second, genuine hate flashed in his black eyes; but it was instantly banked and the flat blankness was back in place.  “Besides, I already have a more than capable sponsor,” he added smugly.

 

 

02.03.2006


	4. Friends and Enemies

The four well-respected wizards were arguing heatedly over a bundle of parchments that was scattered before them.

“I tell you, it is impossible!” Hieronymus Pritchard, Registrations Bursar, snapped, flicking a disdainful thumb at the sheet in front of him.  “I myself have tried that combination over and over but again and again it fails!  Now this, this _schoolboy_ had the audacity to say we were all wrong!”

“And he brewed the potion to prove it,” the quietest of the quartet muttered into his beard, nudging the Rememberall forward as hard evidence.  He was supervisor of research projects, in charge of accepting, denying or advising candidates when they chose a research topic for their third-year major project.

“I don’t care if the Wizengamot itself witnessed him brewing it; I still say he is a cheat and a liar!  I don’t know how he did it but I know he cheated somehow!  And I will prove it!” the Registrations Bursar snapped.

“Look, you stubborn old fool, you have had him do it eight times in a row in a sealed laboratory with ingredients you chose yourself, how much more proof do you need to show you he didn’t bloody well cheat!  Why don’t you just admit that the boy is brilliant, better than you evidently?” Tyrone Bones, Coordinator of Studies, added with relish as he sat back in his chair to gloat.  It was so nice to see the old windbag taken down a peg and by a student too.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please, no wands!” Potions Master Abernathy, Dean of the College, snapped as both men went for their pockets.  “We all agreed that, when Snape applied for a position in the college, he was brilliant and far in advance of his apparent learning level.  Why are you so shocked that he is going ahead in leaps and bounds now that he has access to a real laboratory instead of a school chemistry lab?”

“Because he’s only been here six months and he has finished second year!” Hieronymus snarled angrily.

“And advanced potions research by ten years in those six months,” Morton Gaston mumbled again, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Yes, yes, Morton, but how is he doing it?  I want to know how he is cheating!”  Hieronymus banged the table with his fist making the water jug jump.

“Perhaps he actually studies instead of wasting his time in exercising his hormones and trying to look good in the local pub like the rest of his year group?”  Bones grinned tigerishly.  “Look, he has earned the pass at a credit and an advanced level _and_ had enough bonus points to take him into advanced year three as he stands.  Come on, admit it, we haven’t seen anything like him for a long time, not since… ever!”

“He’s a vampire, you know?” Pritchard insisted bitterly.  “That’s why he can do things normal students cannot do.”

All three of his colleagues rolled their eyes and Dean Abernathy called for a vote.  Grudgingly, Hieronymus Pritchard agreed that Snape could advance to the next level and the paperwork was magically stamped and sealed immediately, before the jealous man could change his mind.

 

~~*~~

 

Potions College was a whole new world, Severus decided as he Apparated down to the school for his regular Thursday lecture.  There were three lectures a week, Monday morning for three hours, Thursday for an hour and Friday afternoon for three hours.  These were compulsory, pure theory lectures and should have been utter joy for Severus, but he always found he knew more than the lecturer on most of the topics.  Tuesdays and Wednesdays were reserved for lab work where the students were supposed to follow through on the theory, experimenting with the ingredients and checking if they could make the brews they were told about during theory.

The group of thirty students he had started with had been whittled down to twenty by the end of the first six months.  There were representatives from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang and even from as far away as America and Africa.  One of the Africans had interested Severus briefly but he had been less brilliant than he appeared.  The rest were the usual mix of adolescent, hormonal, angst-ridden underachievers and overblown, under-brained, egotistical posers.

The school was in Cheshire, in an old Georgian building set in landscaped grounds with extensive greenhouses and cold houses to grow the most exotic of ingredients.  The School of Herbology was also housed in the main building as Potions and Herbology tended to go hand in glove.  The students who could not afford outside accommodation were housed in long dormitories, bartering garden labour or production-line brewing for housing.  In many ways, the place resembled a boarding school for the post-adolescent.

Severus commuted, Apparating in when he needed to from either the Snape apartments in London or from Malfoy Manor to where Lucius had moved to be closer to his father who had not been well recently.  Abraxas had been somewhat upset that his son and his son’s lover made no secret that they slept together under his roof, but he had gradually warmed to Severus, especially when he found the boy was a much better chess player than his son.  Severus also made full use of the extensive underground laboratories that riddled the cellars under Malfoy Manor, brewing, experimenting and producing some extremely foul smells on occasion.

He had barely been attending the college for three months when Lord Voldemort invited himself for dinner and conversation at Malfoy and had catechised Severus more thoroughly than any of his current crop of tutors had done.  Frowning, Severus had answered all the questions as fully and as freely as he could, a small smile developing when he deciphered the common thread running through the quiz.

“My Lord,” he finally interrupted, making Abraxas cringe and even Lucius looked slightly fearful when the Lord stopped speaking and glared at the young man who dared interrupt, “are you trying to find out if I can brew Draught of the Living Death or Murbury’s Curse in crystalline form?”

Lord Voldemort narrowed his eyes and reassessed the boy from under hooded lids.  “Murbury’s Curse,” he said flatly.

“I can, I have a couple of flasks of both brews down in the laboratory.  I had a feeling you were interested in them last time we talked.”

“Did you now,” Lord Voldemort said flatly, then a faint smile curved his lips.  “You are a very bright boy, aren’t you?”

Severus merely smirked and took his queen, placing his king in check.  “Yes.”

The older man studied the board carefully then pushed his king over in surprise.  “Stalemate, no advantage to either, well done, we must play again soon.  Can you brew the Elixir of Three Fates?”

Severus thought about it for a moment then shrugged a little.  “I don’t know, I have never tried.  Ask me again tomorrow,” he temporised with pursed lips, and the Lord laughed aloud, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Learn how,” he recommended as he took his leave from the Malfoys.

“You skate close to the edge, Severo, be very careful he does not take offence at one of your sharp pronouncements,” Lucius warned that night as they lay in bed together.  “He will only allow you to go so far and no further.  I would hate to be called upon to punish you; it would break my heart to skin you again.”

Severus leaned across and kissed him gently.  “Never fear that, he would probably get Bella to do it, not you.”

 

~~*~~

 

Twenty-three people in the Department for Wizarding Sports were poisoned by what appeared to be Draught of the Living Death, not a fatal poison but one that seemed more ominous to the Aurors who were sent to investigate the crime.  There didn’t appear to be any reason behind the mass poisoning, no advantage to be gained.  Even more ominous, the makers’ marks within the poison were totally unknown, a very unusual thing.  To brew such a potion took a certain level of skill and a person mastering that skill tended to mark their work with a signature; this was a ‘clean-skin’ potion so to speak.

“Sir, what is this stuff about markers in potions?” Drewella Redonicus asked, draped across her chair as usual.  Severus thought she was trying to be sophisticated but she only came across as untidy.

The lecturer, an old boy who was an absolute sucker for fluttered eyelashes, verbally patted her on the head.  “We aren’t supposed to mention signatures until third year but I don’t think it will hurt to say a little about them now.  In third year you will each be asked to develop a blend of inactive ingredients that will be your ‘signature’ in the brews you create.  That way, when an anonymous poison is used the Aurors can track down the maker and find out who bought the brew, thus catching the criminal.”

“And if someone fakes a signature?” Ebenezer Pinkerton laughed, glancing around.

Hieronymus Pritchard shook his head smugly.  “Not possible, the marker is only one clue.  Every Potions Master has a distinctive style that he, or she, cannot hide, it is part of the Art of Brewing.”

Severus sat in total silence, brooding on the man’s words.  Was there a distinctive style to his work, to any of their work?  He knew he didn’t use inactive ingredients as that was a waste of his time, but did he have a brewing style?  He was still deep in thought when the class was dismissed and the room cleared.  Would that very lack of a signature be classed as his signature if the Living Death was ever traced to him?  Pursing his lips, Severus wandered out into the great hall and stopped in surprise.  Rows and rows of cauldrons had been set up, fellow students tending them.

Rupert Winklebury was the closest person Severus had any acquaintance with so he strolled over to ask questions, lending a hand to chop angelica root when the man seemed harassed.  “The rent’s due, Severus,” Rupert snapped shortly, stirring the cauldron vigorously.  “Therefore we brew Fortifying Potion, Skele-gro and base diagnostics potions by the cauldron-full, to keep the roof over our heads.”

“Oh.  If you keep stirring it like that you’ll ruin it,” Severus remarked, taking the paddle from his hand and removing it.  “And you shouldn’t be using pig-iron when there is a bronze paddle available.”

“How the hell would you know, and how do you even know what I’m brewing?”

Severus gave him a look, took a precise handful of the angelica and fed it into the potion one cube at a time until the potion took on the clear green opalescence it was supposed to.  “Fortifying potions are something of a study of mine, as is Skele-gro.  You get a much better result if you stir anti-clockwise every twenty rotations and boil instead of simmer until most of the excess fluid has gone.”

“But wouldn’t that make it too thick?” Rupert asked, staring down into the cauldron in surprise.

“No, you stop when it gets to the correct consistency and turn it off.  The faster brewing method stops more of the volatile oils from escaping and improves the potency.  You’d better bottle that, it’s ready.”  Severus handed him the paddle and strode off, leaving him standing there staring in surprise.

 

~~*~~

 

“My Lord, did you know about the signature thing?” Severus asked as soon as the Dark Lord was seated with a snifter of brandy and a plate of mixed biscuits.

Lord Voldemort pursed his lips.  “I did.”

“And you did not think to tell me these things?” Severus snapped angrily, slapping a hand down on the edge of the table.  When he recovered he was lying on his back, every muscle in his body protesting the abuse.  Dazed, he blinked up, seeing Lucius sitting with a frozen, terrified expression on his face, Abraxas not moving, simply looking ahead blankly.

“You will do as you are asked without question, young Severus,” Voldemort said calmly as the boy rose shakily to his feet.

“And that will get me killed,” Severus snarled back, undeterred.  “Little details need to be taken care of as much or even more than the grand sweeping plans!  It is by the little details that all the differences in the world are won or lost!”  Again, the world tilted in agony and again Severus climbed to his feet, pulled his robes straight and continued to glare at his Lord, not budging an inch.  “Without knowing all the details, even those you may consider unimportant, how can I cover them, make sure they are accounted for and neutralised before they grow into larger and more vicious problems.”

“Severus, please,” Lucius protested, grabbing the boy around the waist and trying to pull him away.  “Not now, enough.”

“Why not now?  Or is that another little detail you forgot to tell me about?” Severus jeered bitterly, flinging off Lucius' restraining arm and pulling his robes straight again before drawing himself up to his full height and glaring down his nose at the seated man.  “You mark my words; your lack of attention to the smallest details will be the downfall of you in the end.”

He turned away in a flurry of robes and managed three steps before the Cruciatus Curse hit him again, driving him to his knees then over onto his face.  It was agony in every nerve, turning every muscle against the other, every bone trying its best to fight free of its joint.  He tried not to scream, knowing the penalty of noise, but a faint whine escaped his crumbling control before the nerve induced pain stopped.  He lay panting on the floor unsure if he could ever get up again but knowing he had no choice.  Clawing at the rug, he managed to get his elbows under him, then his knees, pushing back slowly, until he could stop his head falling off.  One joint at a time, like a huge crane unfolding, he struggled back to his feet and slowly resettled his robes around himself before turning to face the three men still seated at the table.  He met his Lord’s eyes squarely, not a blink nor a flinch to be seen.

“I stand by my words,” he rasped bitterly, ignoring the blood that ran freely from his nose, before slowly turning away, back ramrod straight as he exited the room with what little dignity he could muster.

 

~~*~~

 

Severus sat in a quiet little pub in the middle of nowhere, a fifth of Firewhisky at his hand, half gone.  He rolled the remains of his current drink around the glass absently watching the sparks flutter and burn.  There was no one with him, alone with his drink and his thoughts and his decisions.

For the past six weeks, he had been asked to brew some obscure potions and some not so obscure things; Incendiary Potion by the ten gallon cauldron-full, half a gallon of St. Vitus’ Curse, three gallons of Swelling potion and five gallons of Medical Potion.  He had brewed like a good little boy, worked hard and completed the assignments on time as well as doing his college work and keeping up with the rest of his life but yesterday, he had had some free time and had managed to read the Daily Prophet.  The headlines had electrified him enough to go hunting through the pile of old papers his house-elf used to line its nest and rescue the back issues.

The correlation was irrefutable.  Brew Incendiary Potion on the first week of June and the homes of ten half-bloods were burned to the ground in the second week of June.  Brew Swelling Potion in the second week of June and in the third week twelve people were admitted to St. Mungo’s with explosively enlarged internal organs.  Eleven died and the twelfth would have to wait until her tongue reattached successfully before she could speak again.  Brew St. Vitus’ Curse in mid-June and cases of St. Vitus’ Dance were popping up in the oddest places.  The medical potion had him baffled until he saw a small article hidden on the back page that said twelve Aurors had been badly injured in a running battle with the forces of the Dark Lord over the heaths of Lancashire, no one was sure how many Death Eaters had escaped but five men and two women were dead, another four captured and sentenced to Azkaban for their crimes.  Obviously, some of the Dark Lord’s forces had been hurt.

What worried Severus most was that five children under the age of three had died in the house fires.  While injuring people old enough to look after themselves didn’t bother him in the slightest, hurting those too young to even know what the word danger meant always stuck in his throat.  The rest of the victims in the running raids had been adults old enough to make their own decisions.  When he had approached Lucius with his questions, the blond man had laughed incredulously at his fears.

“My dearest Severo, so a few half-bloods and Mudbloods died, less to pollute the gene pool at a later date.  Surely you aren’t going to turn squeamish at this late point in time?”

Severus had realised there was nothing he could say that would explain his feelings to Lucius so he had merely shrugged but over the past week, he had brooded on it until at last he had come to this quiet location to finally sort out his feelings once and for all.  He was about to refill his glass when the door opened briefly and a hooded, robed figure slipped in furtively.  As he crossed the floor Severus stiffened, realising he knew the vague silhouette, knew the way he moved and stood.  Lupin!  A shiver fluttered down Severus’ spine as the werewolf turned, sniffing the air slightly before fully turning.  Severus could almost see his amber eyes gleam in the recesses of the hood as his more than human senses pierced the shadows and saw him sitting there.  For a second, Severus wondered if he should move but then decided he couldn’t be arsed, even when Lupin came over, carrying a bottle of what looked like brown ale.

“Severus, long time, no see,” Lupin said softly, his voice deeper and raspier than it had been at school, a bone-tired note in the depths.

Moving uncomfortably, Severus nodded a greeting and was somewhat put out when the man pulled out a chair and plunked into it, setting the bottle down heavily on the oak table.  “Why are you sitting there?” he was forced to ask when the werewolf made no moves to leave.

“Because it is the middle of nowhere, because you are obviously hiding just like me, and because I am too tired to make drinking alone a good plan,” Lupin murmured, finally picking the bottle up and taking a sip.

“And why are you so tired?” Severus’ curiosity never knew when to keep its nose out of things.

Lupin looked hard at his former schoolmate then half smiled, knowing the look.  Academic interest was always Severus’ weakness.  “There’s a battle going on, in case you hadn’t noticed….”  He was surprised when Severus barked a bitter snort of laughter.

“No shit, Sherlock?” Severus muttered, taking a gulp of whiskey before he sighed and scrubbed his face.  “Isn’t there always a battle going on somewhere?”

“Assuredly, but this battle is purely between werewolves, those that support Lord Voldemort and those that support Albus Dumbledore.”

“And you are a Dumbledore, I suppose.”

“’Fraid so,” Lupin confirmed depreciatingly, sipping his beer again.  “Voldemort has been sending certain werewolves around to known lycanthropes’ homes and threatening them with Ministry reprisals if they do not join his battle against the Light.  The same werewolves are also threatening normal, neutral, wizarding families with biting their children if they do not join the Dark.”

“Busy little bastards, aren’t they?” Severus muttered irreverently, and Lupin laughed, shaking his head.

“Yeah.  Still, it gives the rest of us a bad name and we really don’t need any more bad press than we already have.  Did you know there are nearly four thousand werewolves in England, Scotland and Ireland?  I didn’t know that, no one told me.  I thought I was the only one until I left school and was visited by a couple of older pack members.  I’ve been running the moors, acting as liaison for them.  I only just got away from a pack of Death Eaters last month and nearly ended up in a running battle with the Aurors who were chasing them.”  Lupin laughed harshly, and drank more beer while Severus sighed, sipped his whiskey.  “So, what have you been up to Severus?  Still at Potions school?”

“Yes, still brewing away diligently,” he replied grimly, not looking up.

“What’s wrong, Severus, you sound down.”

Glancing up, Severus snorted.  “Now why would I tell you what was troubling me, Lupin?  I don’t remember us ever being friends, not after you tried to eat me.”

Lupin sighed.  “Damn, you are so good at that!”

“What?”

“Grudge holding!  Get over it, Severus, that was nearly four years ago and you were not really hurt, just scared shitless.”

“And your mate Black was patted on the head like a good little Gryffindork!”

Remus’ lip tightened.  “No, he wasn’t actually.  Didn’t you ever wonder why he was not in as much trouble or around as much during sixth year?  Why you rarely saw him at parties or social events?  Professor Dumbledore had him on a very short lead, no free time, no Quidditch, no privileges, no Hogsmeade weekends.”

“But I saw him there at Halloween,” Severus protested.  “He accused me of selling drugs to children.”

“Oh yes, and didn’t that all end in tears.  He had sneaked out, Severus, and he was supposed to keep a low profile but he didn’t and as a result he was severely reprimanded by the headmaster and confined to the tower for the rest of the year.  He applied for Apparation lessons as he could already Apparate and was refused entry to the class.  He applied for the Quidditch team and was refused a tryout.  Hey, he even applied for the chess club and was knocked back.  For you or I these things would have just been annoying but for Sirius they were heartbreaking and soul destroying punishments.  Oh yes, Albus Dumbledore knew exactly how best to drive the lesson home, believe me.”

“I’m surprised you would admit that,” Severus said, truly surprised.  He had thought the boy had gotten off Scott Free.

“I love Sirius very much, but sometimes I don’t like him a whole hell of a lot,” Lupin confessed softly then finished his beer.  “Can I get you another, Severus?”

“Nah, by the time I finish this lot I will be just pissed enough to activate the Portkey and sober enough to hold onto it.”

Lupin laughed and fetched another beer.  “Did you hear that James and Lily Evans got engaged last month?  Yes, rather a surprise… not!”  Lupin laughed quietly as he re-seated himself.  “They plan to get married early next year and set up house in a cottage built for two.”

“How very romantic!” Severus murmured, glancing across at the young man who had finally pushed back his hood a little.  The candlelight struck golden highlights from his honey brown curls which was very becoming.  Severus derailed that train of thought immediately.

“Yes, it was rather, and they asked Sirius to be their best man, which tickled him totally.  Peter and I will be there of course and most of our year….”

“The Gryffindors, I assume you mean.”  Severus smirked and Lupin blushed.

“Yes, well, you know what I mean.  What about you, Severus, any wedding bells in your future?”

Severus glared then relented and smirked at the younger man who suddenly realised what he had said and winced.  “No, Lucius is contracted to your pet murderer’s cousin Narcissa, and I have already cancelled my contract with the Romanian cousin my father contracted for me, cost a few galleons but it was worth it, horse-faced bitch that she was.  Built like a brick, bust like a shelf, probably capable of carrying a pig under each arm, one of those Landed Squire’s daughter types of girls, you understand?”

“Oh?  I thought your family would have gone in for the delicate and ethereal type.”  Lupin winced at Severus’ slur on Sirius but laughed aloud at his description of his ex-fiancée.

“My dear Lupin, I am the ethereal type, they wanted to breed some more substance back into the line,” he murmured, enjoying watching the werewolf laugh, he was really very handsome when he was happy.  Again, Severus pulled his thoughts up short.  “And you, any prospects for little Lupins?”

Remus stopped laughing abruptly.  “Severus, you are your own worst enemy, you know that?  No, I will not be having any children, unless you, being the hot-stuff potions brewer you are, invent a way to cure my lycanthropy or the Ministry decides that werewolves are not so dangerous after all and grants us equal rights with full humans.”

“I,” Severus moved uncomfortably then sighed, “I’m sorry, I just didn’t think….”

It was Lupin’s turn to shake his head ruefully.  “No, I suppose not.”

They sat in silence for a while, each absorbed in their own thoughts before Severus stirred and looked up.  “So, what’s next for you?”

“Back home to Sirius, a good night’s sleep, then off to the Muggle’s British Library to do some correlating research.  And you?”

“Back to school and brewing, making up potions for the masses or an individual, depending on what my research topic turns out to be.”

“Humm, must be fun for you,” Lupin said on a sigh.  “You always were a keen researcher.  Perhaps you can discover where those odd cases of St Vitus’ Dance are coming from and find a cure as your research topic.  If by chance, you do hear anything, Floo me at Sirius’ flat.  That’s what I am going to research at the British library.”

Severus froze, then narrowed his eyes, then made a decision, trusting to the werewolf’s acute hearing to pick up the barely spoken words.  “Look for an antidote to St. Vitus’ Curse in liquid form and find the common denominator between the cases, that’s where you will find it.  But I never told you that and you didn’t hear it from me, understood?  If anyone asks me, I will vehemently deny ever speaking to you on this topic.”

“Severus, have you been a naughty boy?” Lupin barely breathed as he spoke, the words just a wisp of sound on the air.

“Would I tell you if I had?  Well, I’m drunk enough, time to Portkey home.  Take care of yourself, Lupin, and stay out of my way, we are on opposite sides of the fence you know.”

“Are we, Severus?  You have a strange way of showing it.”

Severus snorted, activated his Portkey and left Remus staring at the spot where he had been for a long second before he went to the landlord and asked to borrow the Floo.  In moments he threw a handful of Floo powder into the flames and stepped in calling Headmaster’s study, Hogwarts.

 

 

07/04/2006

 


	5. Chapter 5: The Price of Favour

  
Author's notes: Yes, I know what canon says about Abraxas but not yet, I need him to be ill at this point and Dragon Pox just doesn’t cut it.  


* * *

Abraxas bent his head and sighed.  “My Lord, I fear I will not be of much use to the cause in the future,” he murmured softly, under the cover of the chamber music played by the Windermere Wizards Orchestra.

“And why is that, my dear fellow?” Lord Voldemort murmured back, glad of a diversion, any diversion at this point.  He wondered why people thought he would prefer these seventeenth century wailings rather than a good, old fashioned Gilbert and Sullivan, probably the only thing the Muggles had made that was in any way memorable.

“You have heard of Perryander’s Disease?”

“Humm, usually confined to the African continent and mainly to the deeper reaches of the Congo?  It was named after Jubal Perryander, one of the most daring explorers in modern Wizarding history.”

“You are well read, my Lord,” Abraxas complimented.

“Yes, and I seem to remember that it was named posthumously as it killed him.”

“Unfortunately, yes, that is also true.”

“And this is relevant how?”

“If you remember, my Lord, I was something of a traveller myself when I was much younger.  I daringly followed in Perryander’s footsteps, retracing his journeying into the Congo, following the river and sleeping in the natives’ accommodations, eating native food and drinking the water.  Unfortunately, I do believe I brought home one extra souvenir much as Perryander did, and it is now manifesting itself in all its pernicious forms.”

Lord Voldemort now had his full attention on his henchman, a worried frown curving his eyebrows.  “Are they sure?  Have St Mungo’s run every available spell?  What are they doing to rid you of the curse?”

“There is nothing to do, my Lord, except treat the symptoms and hope the end comes quickly.”

The orchestra wound down and the audience clapped, but Lord Voldemort simply sat brooding on this new piece of information.  The Malfoys were some of his closest supporters, socially superior to most of the families he had gathered to his cause, and Abraxas had been one of the first to bend a knee to him when he first rose to prominence.  To have such a terrible blow befall one of his favourites was almost a personal insult!  “Have you spoken to Severus about this?  That boy is a genius when it comes to potions, perhaps he can help?”

“No, my Lord, I have not told the boys yet.  I thought I had better speak to you first.  I am going to request Lucius bring forward the date of his nuptials so that I may witness the Binding, to secure the succession you see.”

“My Severus will not be too pleased but I understand the need, and I am sure they too will understand your reasoning, once they get over the disappointment.  I will speak to Severus personally and he will accept the necessity; after all, as we both agree, the boy is a genius, in some areas.”

“I am sure he will come around, they both will, especially with your approval, my Lord.”

“My approval?  Good grief, of course.”  Voldemort laughed gently then patted his friend’s shoulder as he rose and turned away from the concert.  “You must tell them soon, tomorrow at dinner.  I will be there, if you wish me to be.”

“Thank you, my Lord, I appreciate it.”

 

oo0oo

 

“Perryander’s disease?” Lucius repeated stupidly, staring across the table in disbelief.  “But, but what is it?  I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a wasting sickness,” Severus murmured quietly, steepling his fingers before his lips thoughtfully.  “They think it is originally transmitted by a parasitic worm that feeds in magical fields.  Orlunga Mombasso was doing some research on it in the early fifties, but he had some sort of accident, eaten by a gryphon or something.  I’m not sure how far he progressed with his research but I can find out.”

“Thank you, Severus, I knew we could count on your encyclopaedic knowledge and exceedingly clever help.”  Lord Voldemort smiled across the table at the young man who flushed slightly.  “I have a rather extensive library at Little Hangleton, if you need to check any unusual sources.”

“But, but what is it?” Lucius persisted, still shocked.

“It is a wasting sickness, my son.  The disease slowly but surely destroys the flesh and the magic in a person until they are nothing but a walking skeleton and eventually too weak to support life.  In native Africa, the disease is often mistaken for sleeping sickness by Muggles, but it is different in that it only really affects wizards and destroys organs more thoroughly.”

“What can we do?  What does it need to cure it?”

“Lucius, there is no cure,” Lord Voldemort said gently.

“No, I don’t believe that!”  Tossing down his napkin, Lucius surged to his feet fast enough to overturn his chair and stormed out.

“Go with him, Severus, I will speak to you tomorrow,” the Lord said quickly and waved the young man away.

Rising almost as swiftly, Severus bowed acknowledgement, cast a worried look at Abraxas, then hurried out after his lover.

 

oo0oo

 

Severus spent hours researching magical diseases, Perryander’s in particular but a few other nasty ones too.  He discovered a very strange little book by one of his distant ancestors tucked away in the Malfoy library.  It didn’t shed too much light on his present research topic but gave him some insights into how magic worked in humans.  And that was how he was treating the assignment the Dark Lord had given him, as a research assignment devoid of any emotional content.  He knew he would not be at his efficient best if he let himself dwell on the horrendous consequences the disease was going to have on his friend’s father.  Abraxas was as much his friend as Lucius, someone to talk to, bounce ideas off and, if the truth be told, look up to if he had a problem.  Of course, he could always talk to Lord Voldemort, but he didn’t like to bother him with such petty problems as came his way.

Lucius, on the other hand, seemed to fall to pieces for a week, unable to concentrate or think or even go to work, he was so distraught.  Severus couldn’t quite understand how he could feel like that about his own father, but then, Severus really and genuinely hated his father with every fibre of his being, so he had no yardstick to judge by.  In fact, when he had tried to voice his thoughts, Lucius had flown into a fine old rage and told him he was a cold-blooded bastard.  They hadn’t spoken for nearly a week.  Abraxas had noticed their estrangement and had consoled Severus at one of their late night chess games, but there was not much else he could do for the boy.  They could only ride out Lucius’ panic until he came to terms with himself and the news of his father’s mortality.

When the resources of the Malfoy library, the Dark Lord’s library and the Snape Library were exhausted, Severus began to devour the Potions College Library and then went on to chew through the Wizengamot’s own library, the Archives Of Wizardry.  Cataloguing everything he could, copying everything he thought might be useful, he took piles of parchment home to the Malfoy potions laboratories and immersed himself in trying to decipher the real nature of the disease.  After reading all the African texts the Dark Lord had had shipped in for him, he came to a few conclusions; that one, if caught early enough, there was a chance to eliminate the parasite that brought the disease in, in the first place.  Two, if the virus did invade the victim’s system then it was possible to eradicate it, but the cure was radical and would probably do as much if not more damage than the disease.  Three, it was too late to cure Abraxas Malfoy, he was going to die, but it was possible to slow the ravages of the disease so that degeneration would not set in so quickly or so painfully.

“Great, so instead of it being over quick and painful, you can slow it down so it is drags out over years instead of months?” Lucius jeered when Severus tried to talk to him about his father’s prognosis.

Sighing deeply, Severus ignored Lucius’ struggles as he pulled him close and forcibly held him until he relaxed almost to the point of going limp in his arms.  “I have studied the potions St Mungo’s has been recommending to treat the disease with and I have tweaked them, made improvements and exchanged ingredients so that they are as efficient as possible.  They won’t cure him but they will allow him to function at the best of his abilities for as long as possible.  When it all gets too much for him, by substituting a few key ingredients, I can end it whenever he tells me it is time.”

“Kill him, you mean?” Lucius said viciously.

“Yes.”

Lucius gave him a look of utter disgust, barely hiding the pain the stark assertion caused.  For all his protestations of friendship, Severus Snape stated that he could simply murder his so called friend in cold blood.  Turning away, Lucius stalked off, without a word.

 

oo0oo

 

“The combination of drugs and spells is tricky and will have to be monitored at all times, but it will give you the best of time possible, eighteen months, perhaps even two years of fairly normal life.  After that, you will degenerate rapidly; the disease will become immune to the treatment and begin to flourish in the poisonous environment.  Unfortunately, because the drugs contain so many lethal ingredients, increasing the dosage becomes impossible after a certain point and that is when the disease will flourish,” Severus lectured, hands clasped behind his back as he paced.  When he turned to face the two men he was presenting his findings to, he suddenly folded his arms across his chest and ducked his head.  “Once that point is reached, you will have a choice, lower the dose and suffer the disease at full strength or increase the dose and die of poisoning.”

“Painful?” Lord Voldemort asked when Abraxas seemed incapable of it.

“Very, hemlock, belladonna and ashwinder eggshell in conjunction tend to be very volatile and painful.  However, when you give the word, I will mix a more _gentle_ poison that will ease you away without the agony, that I can promise you.”  The boy and the man locked eyes over the distance and the promise was sealed.

“Thank you, So-Severus, I appreciate it,” Abraxas said quietly, offering his hand and taking the boy’s to seal the bargain.  “When will we start the regime?”

Severus half smiled and pulled a small blue bottle out of his robes.  “No time like the present.”

Later that night, Lucius watched as Severus undressed, a strange glint in his eye.  Raising an eyebrow, Severus went to lift the duvet, but Lucius slammed a hand over the covers angrily.  Surprised, Severus paused, one hand raised, utterly still as he watched Lucius watch him with a blank expression.

“So you promise to kill my father, then you expect to just continue as always,” Lucius muttered flatly.  “How can you promise such a thing without even blinking?”  His voice rose as he demanded an answer.

“The alternative is more horrific than you can comprehend at this moment, Lucius.  You have seen men die, tortured or poisoned or blown up, now think of your father’s face in their place, begging for death as his muscles try to tear free, as he is unable to control his own bodily functions, as his mind begins to slip away and hallucinations become more real than reality.  Do you think that is the best alternative?  Do you want to watch him slip into drooling, raving, incontinent imbecility when a simple potion can end his suffering?  Do you?”  Severus roared, stepping back and dashing a tear from his cheek.  “Go to hell, Lucius; just… just… go to hell!”  He tossed his outer robe around his shoulders carelessly and Apparated out.

 

oo0oo

 

“Severo!”

He ignored the shout, measuring out the powdered moonstone with obsessive care.  The brew before him was simmering gently, fragrant steam rising to shroud his face and lighten each breath he took, but nothing was touching his mood which remained grim and dour.

“Severus!”

The voice was closer but still he was not deterred from his task, making a note in the margin of his textbook in precise, tiny writing.

“Severus Snape, will you answer me, when I speak to you!” Lucius demanded as he stomped into the laboratory, his robes in disarray.

Still ignoring him, Severus removed the cauldron from the flame and added a one gram portion of powdered moonstone to the brew before grabbing the whisk and beating the powder through thoroughly.  The clear fluid took on a soft, pearly hue, as delicate as moonstone itself, and he nodded in satisfaction as he tapped the whisk clean - three precise blows - before setting both the whisk and the cauldron aside.  Only then did he turn to the irate man who was looming over him.

“I was busy.  What do you want?” he said flatly, not bothering to look up as he wiped his hands on an old rag.

“Are you ever going to stop sulking?” Lucius inquired impatiently.  “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you the other night, you upset me too, you know, threatening to kill my father.  I just didn’t understand until he explained the course of the disease to me.  And you still have to apologise to the Dark Lord for last week too, you upset him as well with your criticism.  So, here is your chance to apologise to Lord Voldemort, get back into his good graces again.  He has been quite angry himself you know; he isn’t used to people telling him he is careless.”

“Isn’t he?  Well, he should take more care not to be wrong or make sure his sycophants are all well-trained yes men then.”

Lucius winced then glared at his lover, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.  “Are you calling me a coward?” he snarled, suddenly realising how much taller Severus had grown this past year.  “What happened to your nose?” he asked suddenly, finally taking a proper look at his face.

Severus snorted and pushed Lucius away easily.  “You can’t expect to fall on your face and writhe around on the floor under an Unforgivable curse without some consequence, and when your nose is as _big_ as mine, you have to infer that it would hit the ground before I did, don’t you?”

“But… but you could have healed it straight, you have before!”

“I could have, but why bother?  So, what did you want?” Severus asked indifferently, turning to bottle the potion he had been working on.

“What?  Oh, oh yes, the Dark Lord wants to know if you have some sort of life-prolonging solution that could be used to keep prisoners alive longer when they are being questioned.  Quite a few people have simply died when under torture before they could give up their secrets.”

“In the green glass on the top shelf, it’s marked.”

“No, no, Severo, he wants _you_ to deliver and administer it yourself.  He said he would appreciate your expertise in matters pertaining to potions.”

“Oh, would he indeed?  Oh, very well!”  Severus stomped over to the storage cupboard, removed the stasis spell from one section to retrieve the potion needed, then stomped back.  “Well?  Do we Apparate or Portkey?” he demanded grumpily, glaring down at Lucius, who simply shook his head in resignation.

“We Apparate.”

 

~~*~~

 

Of course it had to be the Lestrange dungeons they Apparated into, reeking of blood, sweat and terror.  They were probably the only private dungeons Severus had seen that had an audience gallery above the main torture arena.  Lord Voldemort was seated in a throne-like affair that dominated the best views of the action below.  On his left Antonin Dolohov leafed through a magazine with a disinterested air, and on his right Walden Macnair leaned forward drinking in the angst and excitement rising from the arena below.  Lesser functionaries were crowded around the railing, jostling and elbowing for a good view of the proceedings.  Severus was not particularly surprised to see Evan Rosier and Bootman Wilkes in the middle of the crowd although Simon Parkinson was something of a leveller.

Ignoring the looks and speculation, Severus glided forward and stopped at his Lord’s right shoulder, not moving or speaking, making no announcement of his presence.

“You have a potion for us?” Lord Voldemort enquired, not turning or acknowledging the young man in any personal way.

Snape nodded his head once but spoke no word, a still dark shadow in the shadows.  This whole scene was disturbing to him, but there had to be a purpose behind it, one he just did not see at this time.  Gathering up his questions, scruples and objections, Snape pushed them into a dark corner of his mind and closed the door before waiting to do the Lord’s bidding.

“You will join the Lestranges and administer your brew to the right hand prisoner.  Dalgettie will be in charge of the left hand prisoner and we will see what develops.”

Severus bowed again and swept away, ignoring everyone as he glided down the stairs, nodded once to Bella, Rabastan and Sturmon Dalgettie and took his place near the right hand rack where a pale-faced, sweating Muggle lay pilloried.  He looked to be about thirty, short brown hair sweat-matted and bloody, the skin of his chest already showing signs of fire and knife.  Above them Lord Voldemort cleared his throat causing instant silence.

“This is a contest between the two teams I have assembled.  Bella, you are with Severus and Rabastan with Sturmon.  The object is to inflict the most damage you can without killing your Muggle.  The potions you brewers administer will prolong the contest as much as possible.  When you are ready you may begin.”

“I hope you brewed that competently, little man,” Bella hissed as she selected her first knife from the set laid out in a row on the table at her side.

“I hope you are competent with your tools, little girl, or we will both be in trouble,” Severus retaliated as he uncapped the bottle and measured out three drops, pouring them onto the man’s slightly swollen tongue.  “Do we have water?  Good, we’ll give him a drink; it will wash the brew down better.”

“You give him a drink, you think he needs it,” Bella snapped, carefully cutting the first square inch of skin from the man’s chest.

Severus stood back from the proceedings, his arms crossed over his chest and watched impassively as Bella plied the torturer’s trade with a skill that had to be admired.  She was good, using the knives, pinchers, boot and rack with a delicate touch that screamed of mastery and long practice.  He had to admire her skill even in such a pointless exercise as this one was proving to be.  The Muggle had no information; he was just a Muggle caught out somewhere and dragged in for the entertainment value his death would yield.  The audience above seemed to thrive on the screams and sobs he and his fellow unfortunate could not seem to help letting out.

Occasionally, Severus stopped Bella and administered his brew, giving the man a little water each time, and trying to ignore the smell of his blood and the pleading in his eyes.  The time intervals between doses of potions began to shorten as the life’s blood flowed out onto the bloodgutters and finally onto the floor until the footing was slippery and even Bella had to be careful how she stepped around the rack.  As she moved down toward his feet, his screams became more and more feeble; going from hoarse pleading to mere whimpers then barely twitches toward the end.

Bella snapped at Severus to give him more potions but Severus merely shrugged.  “No point really, Bella, he rattled a few moments ago and nothing I have with me will bring him back again.”

“What?  How can you fail me like this?” she screamed, her knife lashing out toward Severus’ face in a vicious slash.

Even as he swayed backward, a Cruciatus Curse took her and dropped her into the congealed blood puddle under the rack.  She screamed, high-pitched and pained, louder than her victim had in the beginning.  Emotionlessly, Severus watched her writhe, then, as the curse was lifted, he offered a hand to pull her to her feet before turning to face the balcony.

“Now, now Bella, no need to punish Severus for winning the contest for you,” Voldemort said playfully.  “Didn’t you notice your dear brother-in-law and his partner lost by a good two hours?  My dear child, you have been working hard for five hours, no wonder you are so tired.  Come, join us in some refreshment and receive your laurels, you too, Severus.”  He turned to smile at the boy who merely nodded his acceptance.

The Lord’s mouth tightened for a second then he smiled ruefully.  He had made a mistake when he had punished Severus for speaking his mind and he was being made to pay for it.  It was funny in a way, how the boy refused to soften or give in his stance in any way, gallant really, if a little annoying.  And he hadn’t screamed much when the curse bit, which was intriguing until Lucius explained that Severus told him that Severus’ Grandmother doubled the punishment for every scream he made.  Ah, she must have been a fine old-school matriarch in her day, and a hell of a teacher!

He remembered his initial assessment of the boy’s psyche and realised his emotional and intellectual make-up had to have reasons for everything, solid black and white reasons.  The boy would not be happy with whims and ‘because I wanted to’ would not sit well in his lexicon.  Ah, intelligence, what a two-edged sword!  The mental exercise kept Tom on his toes, more so than any other member of his cadre.

 

~~*~~

 

The reception droned on, Bella giggling and giving blow by blow descriptions of the methods and techniques she had used to torture her Muggle, poking and teasing her husband who allowed her to boast good-naturedly.  Severus merely drifted into the nearest dark corner and sipped the Firewhisky he poured with a liberal hand.

He was surprised when someone slipped in beside him, a warm body standing too close until he caught the scent and stiffened abruptly.  “My Lord,” he said formally.

“Now, now, my Severus, don’t you think you have punished me enough for my chastisement?  I did not mean you any permanent harm, certainly not to disfigure you, my child.”  A thin, pale hand brushed over the lumpy bend in Severus’ nose apologetically.  “Will you let me straighten that?”

Severus thought about it for a moment then sighed, the tension running out.  “I am sorry I was so abrupt with you, my Lord, and that I reacted badly to the news that potions were traceable.  No one had ever told me that before and I hate being surprised by my ignorance.  That is my only excuse but I cannot say I didn’t mean what I said, for that I do not apologise.  In Potion making, attention to detail is _the_ most important aspect of the process.  One slip could mean the potions maker is spread all over the laboratory wall in thin gooey strings.”  He paused while the Dark Lord cracked a laugh and patted his shoulder.  “Not paying attention to those details, and realising I had missed a huge chunk of information was, was a shock to the system.  As for straightening my nose, no, I think not, it will remind me to be more careful in the future.”

“Very well, my Severus, friends again?”

“Yes, my Lord,” he said softly, bowing to his Lord.

“Then come out and get something decent to drink instead of that inferior rubbish Rodolphus has foisted off on you.”  The Lord drew him from his hiding place with a hand on his back to make sure he came quietly.  “Twenty-one year old Ogden’s is your favourite, is it not?”

 

~~*~~

 

Severus was brooding again; it was always a bad thing when he did it, Lucius decided, standing in the doorway to the guest suite.  The younger man had not really spoken to anyone since the Lord had punished him for contradicting him, although what Severus had expected was beyond his ken.  When the Lord had called him personally and smiled on him after the little contest at the Lestrange house, Severus had not responded to the olive branch as well as he should have.  What did he want?  What did he expect?  You did not contradict the most powerful wizard in the world, nor did you chastise him for what you perceived as a mistake.  All you could do was try to compensate for the errors, work around those little blind spots and do your best to avoid arguing and getting cursed.

“It’s no good hovering in the doorway,” Severus said without lifting his head from the book he was writing in.  “Either come in or go away.”

“You’re a cheerful little ray of sunshine lately, aren’t you?” Lucius huffed, coming in to flounce down on the side of the bed.  “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother to seek you out, you are just so pissy!”

“Because I have a big cock and you like it shoved up your arse,” Severus said crudely, making Lucius gasp and glare then finally laugh ruefully.

“Amongst other things,” he acknowledged spinning around to lie next to Severus and look down on his textbook.  “You know you aren’t supposed to write in textbooks, terribly bad form, love.”

Severus banished the book, inkpot and quill to the dresser before rolling to look at Lucius, studying him like a specimen until he squirmed uncomfortably.  “He punished me for stating the obvious.” he said out of the blue.

“No-o.  You told him off like he was a naughty little child and he punished you for that disrespect.  Later, he even apologised to you indirectly by very publicly taking you under his wing, touching you and generally showering you with favour.  Just learn one lesson from all this, please, Severo.  He is not a naughty boy; he is a very powerful and touchy Lord of Darkness who can and does play God with all our lives.”

“I thought he liked me, I thought he was my friend, or… or something.”

Lucius sighed and drew Severus to him, holding him close.  He sometimes forgot just how young Severus really was, even younger than his age in some ways.  He still had an endearing if quirky belief in everything being black and white.  If you were a friend, you were always a friend, if you were an enemy you were ‘THE ENEMY’ with no quarter given.  There were few shades of grey, no shadings of truth and friendship, or friendly enemies, just good and bad, black and white.  If he didn’t grow out of it sometime soon, Severus was going to get badly hurt one way or the other.

“He is your friend and protector, but he cannot and will not protect you from himself.  He gives you leeway he doesn’t allow any other, including my father, to voice your opinions even when they do not march hand in hand with his, but he cannot and will not tolerate outright rebellion from you, especially not in public, even the limited public of my father and I.  Do you understand me?  Perhaps he will listen to you in private but never when there is an audience,” he added when the boy seemed to be struggling with himself.  “Really, you know, if it was anyone else I would be extremely jealous of his attentions to my propert--, er, lover.”

Sighing deeply, Severus snuggled against Lucius’ chest and let out a shaky sigh, a hint of sad resignation in his voice.  “Yes, I understand, we must always be seen to be upholding the throne, even if we disagree with the current policies and if we do see a problem we must work around it until we can speak out quietly in the utter privacy of a one-on-one situation, if the chance arises.  It’s alright to gently chastise Tom in the privacy of the library when playing chess but not in public while anyone else is present, not even you and your father.”

“That’s it, love, exactly right,” Lucius praised and petted the dark head pressed so trustingly against his throat.  “That’s exactly right.”  _‘But only you are allowed the privilege of criticism without retaliation, whether you realise it or not, my naïve little man,’_ he added to himself with a sigh.


	6. Chapter 6: The Wedding

Narcissa Black was beautiful, a pale, delicate ice carving draped in the palest of cream silk, lace and pearls.  She gave the impression of a virginal princess with her pale blonde hair flowing down her back as she glided down the central aisle of Malfoy Manor with the graceful carriage of a Pure-blood lady going to meet her Pure-blood lord.  She was the contracted bride, indisputable prize and perfect ornament to the Malfoy line.  The contract was of long standing, written and sealed at her birth some twenty-two years before.  Now, on the day after her twenty-second birthday, they were celebrating the nuptials a full three years earlier than the contract stated.

Bellatrix followed her as her attendant, dressed in rich blue satin and lace, her long black hair piled elaborately on top of her head.  She did not glide demurely like her younger sister but strode arrogantly on her sister’s heels, daring the world to comment on her choice of robes.  She had known her sister was contracted to Malfoy but also knew Malfoy was not particularly keen on fulfilling his obligations to her.  This hasty scrambling of the ceremony was not Lucius’ doing but that of his father who was dying, by all accounts.  To secure the succession he was making sure Lucius married Narcy, no matter where Lucius’ current interests lay.  After all, it was Snape himself who had set the precedence of defying a parent to do as he pleased and the fate of the Family could go hang!  Bella always loved an enemy, and in Snape she seemed to have gained an opponent worthy of her attention.  She would annihilate him if he stood in her sister’s way!

At the end of the hall on the raised dais the Malfoy Master of Rites and the Black Master of Rites stood side by side ready to perform the Binding of Fates.  Below and to the far left of the dais stood Malfoy Senior, leaning heavily on his attendant, his face aged and creased with pain and fatigue.  It was his impending death that had forced his son to hurry the service along, and his son had only agreed to humour him.  True, it was Severus who made the potions that would prolong his life by much more than his healers or Medi-wizards predicted but no matter how good Severus was, he could not perpetuate the line of Malfoy into the future, so the wedding was going ahead early!

In the centre of the space stood two tall figures dressed in black.  The taller of the two on the left was all in black, long hair draped across his shoulders glinting blue in the candle light.  His robes absorbed the light and made no concession to the cause of the gathering, a long thin pillar of darkness in the gaily bedecked hall.

The second figure was blond, as white blond as the bride, and his outer robes were of embroidered black velvet, the patterns swirling and seemingly moving as the candlelight flickered.  As they turned to watch the approach of the bride, he revealed a snow white under-robe glittering with diamonds and pearls to match the bride’s finery.  He smiled in satisfaction when he saw his wife-to-be; she was indeed beautiful, gorgeous enough to wear the Malfoy jewels and take his deceased mother’s place as the Malfoy Matriarch.

The service began, the Masters of the Rites speaking the time-worn words over the couple before them.  Narcissa handed her bouquet to Bella, Lucius his cane to Severus and both took hands, completing the infinity symbol of joining.  The ball of magic swelled before them, both peering into it to see if a glimpse of their future could be garnered as was usual at weddings.  Both saw the usual wealth, happiness and children as they were expecting and both were happy enough as the Masters closed the rite, pronouncing them man and wife.  Both leaned forward and touched lips briefly, two blond heads making an arch over their joined hands to be immortalised forever by the official photographer.

Over their bent heads, Bella and Severus clashed gazes, each promising mayhem if their respective charge was caused pain by the other in any way.  As the newlywed couple straightened and began to move out of the hall, arm in arm, the two attendants came together, Severus offering his arm in the time-honoured form.  Bella pursed her lips and laid a long thin hand on the black velvet of his sleeve, feeling the rigid muscle under the rich fabric and wondering if there was more to the boy than there seemed.

The newlyweds left the hall and proceeded to the withdrawing room where they would stay until the house-elves had had a chance to lay out the feast and the guests had all arrived.  As soon as the parlour door closed, Bella dropped Snape’s arm and turned to smile at her sister, a genuine smile.

“You did look fine, Cissy,” she commented, hurrying across to remove the light veil from her sister’s hair and resettle the tiara of diamonds and pearls that had held the spider silk veil in place.

“Indeed, I must agree with my new sister, you did look fine as you came down the hall.  I like the way you moved, gracefully gliding,” Lucius murmured in her ear making her blush prettily and turn a flower face to his sun.

“Thank you, Lucius, I was so nervous, couldn’t you tell?” she breathed softly in his ear, lowering her eyes demurely as she stroked his arm.

Lucius shook his head just a little, as he led her to a sofa and seated her gracefully.  “Pour us a drink, Severo; there should be some champagne in the bucket.”

Severus bowed slightly and moved away to the sideboard to do the honours as Bellatrix turned to stare down at her new brother-in-law.  “Was it really politically correct to ask your current lover to stand up as your best man at your wedding?” she hissed flatly.

“A best man is someone you trust and like.  Since I trust Severo with my life and that of my father, and since he is my best friend, then yes, he was the only choice for best man,” Lucius replied pleasantly, and smiled over her shoulder to where Severus was standing behind her, smiling blandly.  “Isn’t that right, Severo?”

Severus snorted softly as he handed the bridal couple their glasses before turning to gather the glasses for Bella and himself.  “Shall I propose a toast to the happy couple?  And despite popular opinion…”  He smirked knowingly at Bella.  “I do wish you both happy.”

Narcissa bowed her head gracefully and Lucius impulsively held out his hand to his best friend and lover, kissing the knuckles when Severus took his hand.  Narcissa glanced up from under her brows, and Severus was very glad she had not mastered a silent _Avada Kadavra_ or he would have been dead on the spot.  Still, he had to admire the way the small, demure smile on her lips never faltered.

“How long do we have to stay cooped up in here?” Bella asked flinging herself down on one of the armchairs while Severus took the other.

“Perhaps half an hour,” Severus answered and summoned an elf who appeared instantly and laid a small table with a selection of delicacies he had pre-ordered.  “I wasn’t sure what you ladies would prefer but feel free to express any wish and it will be granted as fast as the elf can travel.”

Bella expected Lucius to at least protest the usurping of his authority as host, but he seemed very content to have Severus pass plates and serve choice delicacies with a grace that was most admirable.  Taking her plate, she surveyed the selection and chose something that looked like jellied eel on toast points.  It was, and it was delicious, she conceded grudgingly as she settled back in her chair.  “So, Snape, still a grubby schoolboy?” she taunted, smiling silkily at him across the width of the hearthrug.

Severus smiled back equally sweetly.  “Definitely,” he purred, lifting his glass in a mock toast.  The stains around his carefully manicured fingernails stood out starkly against his pale flesh.

“Oh?  I thought you finished Hogwarts last year?” Narcissa said naively, making Severus snort and her sister roll her eyes.

“I am attending the College of Potion Makers,” Severus clarified smoothly.  “And yes, Bella, I’m still a scruffy schoolboy for another year at least.”

“Then you are not going to finish the course?” Bella asked in mocking astonishment.  “It does take three years to become a potions brewer, doesn’t it?”

“Usually, but I have managed to… compress my studies.”  He smiled into his glass without looking up.

“What Severo is too modest to say is that he has managed to fit four years of study into two and will be an accredited Potions Master by this time next year.  Pretty brilliant, humm?”  Lucius grinned at the thin boy, who actually blushed a little.

Bella was impressed but not pleased with that titbit of information.  “Yes, but did you learn it thoroughly?” she demanded testily.

“Well enough to rewrite two of the blasted text books,” Severus snapped, draining the glass in one gulp, then he cursed himself silently for letting the bitch get to him.  “They were appallingly out of date and quite inaccurate in places.  It was an interesting exercise,” he murmured, managing to save the situation as Lucius laughed.

“If you could have heard what he called some of the most illustrious Potions Masters of our era, you would have laughed yourself into fits too.”  The blond chuckled.  “Narcissa, would you like some more champagne?” he offered when he saw her empty glass.

“Better not, I should really eat something before I indulge further.  I wouldn’t want to appear wobbly in public, now would I?”  Narcissa fluttered her eyelashes as she smiled ruefully.  Lucius assured her she would never appear ungraceful in his eyes while Severus merely blinked and offered more food.

 

~~*~~

 

The Malfoys had outdone themselves in the preparation and presenting of the nuptial feast.  Food circled on platters; drinks and snacks, anything a spoilt palate could wish for was present to be sampled.  Severus never liked eating in public and had retired to a dim corner with a plate of prawns and oysters in a light egg batter.  Hidden from most people he could enjoy his repast in peace without the whispers of speculation and even the odd open invitation following him wherever he turned.  Some people were vulgar in their attempts to satisfy their curiosity about his and Lucius’ relationship.

A quiet step made him glare ferociously at the intruder, then lower his head in apology when he recognised the tall figure invading his space.  “Abraxas,” he murmured as the old man took the seat next to him with a soundless grunt.  “May I offer you a drink?”

Lord Malfoy smiled when the boy who had all but lived in his son’s pockets swirled a decanter of the best Firewhisky in his direction with a faint smile.  “Should I be tempted, Severus?”

“One small sip in honour of your son’s wedding day should not hurt you,” Severus told him calmly as he poured a finger of the purloined brew into a glass.

“It had to be done, you know,” the old man said after a quiet time of contemplating the sparks in his glass.  “If only you were female, Severus, I would have welcomed you with open arms.  Pity one of your potions couldn’t have arranged that.”

“Sex change in a bottle?  It’s possible, so is male pregnancy, but not my idea of a fun thing to do,” Severus mused then gave the older man a genuine smile at his shocked and slightly speculative look.  “I’m gay, Abraxas, not transgender; there is a difference.”

The old man shook his head and laughed wheezily.  “You are such a dour child; I forget you do have a sense of humour locked up in that long head of yours.  So, are you terribly upset that Lucius is now married?  Contrary to popular opinion, I do care about your welfare and your happiness.  If I knew it wouldn’t offend you, I would say you have been like a second son to me, but I know how you feel about fathers.”

Severus stiffened then relented at the man’s kind sentiments.  “Thank you, I do appreciate that, in my own _dour_ way,” he mocked but not unkindly, making the man smile again.

“Well, my boy, don’t hide in the shadows all night, go out and face them all down, dance with the bride and the bridesmaid, bitch that she is, and perhaps even dance with Lucius - if you get the chance - rub their noses in it completely.  After all, you are as well - if not better - bred than that pack of hyenas, waiting to devour the weak and fawn over the strong, or both.”  He rose creakily and patted one bony shoulder as he moved on to greet the next guest at the reception.

Severus sat and thought about his friend’s father while finishing off his supper then rose smoothly and went to wreak some havoc with his presence.

 

~~*~~

 

“Is that Severus Snape?  I thought he was dead?”  The whispers were rife as Severus glided across the ballroom and presented himself to the bride who looked at him as if he had crawled out from under a rock.  His smirk dared her to refuse even as he asked her to stand up with him for the mazurka.  Lucius’ laughing eyes danced between the two of them, almost daring his bride to refuse his lover the dance.  She narrowed her gaze then suddenly smiled sweetly as she took the offered hand and rose to her full height.  Even with the four-inch heels she had chosen, she was still dwarfed by the man.

Ignoring the whispers and speculation, Severus led the ice princess to the middle of the floor and bowed punctiliously before taking both her hands and beginning the steps.  Narcissa’s innate grace carried her as she overcame her surprise at his ability to dance; he was good!  They moved through the forms silently until the whispers died a natural death before either dared to say a word that might be overheard.

“Lucius has told me you are treating his father for the sickness that has claimed him,” she began as they paced the crossover steps lightly.

“True, I brew his medicine and have been quite successful in slowing the progress of the disease.”

“I’m glad; he seems to be a nice man.  However, I am not pleased that Lucius feels you will not be leaving Malfoy Manor.”

“Also true, Abraxas is too ill to be left alone and even a moment’s delay in altering the composition of his potion may prove fatal.”

“Then I must insist you stay out of Lucius’ bedchamber,” she said firmly as the couples around them waltzed in time.

“Lucius’ bedchamber?  Do you mean the Heir’s Chambers?  Why would I bother invading his bed when we have our own bed?  Oh, how silly of me, I hadn’t realised you were not au fait with the arrangements here at Malfoy.  There are the Master’s chambers where Abraxas and his attendant are housed.  Then there are the Heir’s Chambers consisting of the Lady Suite, where you will be housed, and the Heir’s Suite where Lucius is now sleeping.  I have a suite in the guest wing where I stay when I am here at Malfoy Manor which is as far from the Heir’s Chambers as is possible without being inconvenient.”

“Convenient for whom?” she snapped before reining her temper in.

“Not for you obviously,” Severus murmured as they bowed to the finale of the music.  He had to be impressed that she didn’t slap him or storm off but instead smiled sweetly, taking the arm he offered with a small, demure curtsey.

“I will take him from you,” she promised with an iron clad will.

“You may of course try, but not tonight, tonight we present a united front to the Pure-blood world, all cosy tight and right with the world.  I think I will ask your sister to dance; I like playing with explosives and fires.”

Narcissa laughed in genuine amusement that did not go unnoticed by those who scrutinised their every move.  “You will make a good match for each other,” she commented as he led her back to her new husband’s side.  “Bella, dear, do dance with Severus, he is very light on his feet and quite a divine dancer, not really a talent you would associate with such a dark and gawky lump, is it?”

Lucius winced at the barb, but Severus merely raised an eyebrow and smirked in her sister’s direction.  “If you dare,” he taunted almost silently, making her eyes narrow dangerously and her wand hand twitch.

“Of course I will dance with your dear Severus, it’s time we got to know each other properly.  After all, we will probably be seeing much more of each other in the future, won’t we, _Severo_ ,” she hissed, claws digging into the velvet covered arm he held out to her.

“Indeed we will, Bella,” he agreed, ignoring the trickle of blood that was edging its way down his arm from her sharp nails.

As they took their places on the floor the music changed and Severus’ head shot up in horror.  Turning, he glared at where Lucius and Narcissa were obviously creased over in laughter, Lucius’ hand still raised in a signal to the musicians.  Turning back to Bella he glared down as she glared up in fury.  “They did this on purpose,” he hissed furiously.

“Of course they did.  Are you man enough for it?” she hissed back without moving her lips.

“Try me.”  He rose to the challenge as the lush sounds of the tango flowed over them.

Their tango was more like an apache dance at times, but it was raw and passionate and enough to make a few ladies fan themselves as the couple burned up the floor together.  As Bella was spun out then spun back she noticed the trickle of blood on Severus’ wrist and almost defiantly licked it off in a frozen moment before spinning away again.  As the music crashed to a halt, Lucius wondered if he should make sure the cutlery was out of reach but then Bella burst out laughing and patted Severus’ cheek before letting him lead her off the floor.

“Now _that_ was a tango,” she exclaimed with a grin as she caught up the nearest champagne glass and downed the contents in one go.  “We’ll have to do that again some time,” she murmured as she sauntered off, still panting and laughing.

“Not in this lifetime,” Severus muttered, shaking his head and glaring at the newlyweds before smiling ruefully.  “That was not nice.  Just remember, we have the gift opening to get through yet and there are always certain moments that can be, shall we say, exploited?”

 

~~*~~

 

There were gifts from every conceivable source, business acquaintances, cadet family branches, friends and relatives.  Severus had to admire Narcissa’s grace under fire when yet another silver cruet set was unwrapped and stood beside the four others already decorating the sideboard.  Lesser acquaintances and business associates were almost obliged by the rules of etiquette to give some sort of silver gift, a salver, a cruet set, a tea or coffee service, anything as long as it was silver.

There was a clock that told the position of each family member with space for half a dozen hands which made Narcissa blush at the implication.  She was even more agitated when she unpacked the hands and found there were already three of them.  Lucius smiled down at her and carefully made the Severus hand disappear into his pocket before any of the guests could see it.  He also made note of the sender, unsure if he was going to reward or punish his board members.

Most gifts were innocuous, a photo album with pictures from Narcissa’s past from her cousins, a set of his and hers robes which enhanced the beauty of the wearer.  Uncle Milarus Malfoy gave them a pair of silver rings which were guaranteed to bring the wearers happiness.  Great Aunt Cassiopeia Black had sent a pair of towels which did nothing but dry whoever used them but then Great Aunt Cassiopeia had always been strange that way.  Walden had an odd sense of humour and had sent them a hand of glory -- just the thing for decorating the dungeons, he shrugged later.

Finally the pile of gifts was reduced to three small bundles, a plain box wrapped in silver paper, an elaborate gold affair and a small blue bundle, tied with a star spangled ribbon.  Narcissa clapped her hands in excitement and played a childish rhyme game to choose which one to open first.  The elaborate gold box won, and she carefully began to pull the ribbons away.  Inside were two cut glass decanters, mounted in gold with delicately tinted potions inside, one the palest of blue, one the palest of pink.

Lucius looked across to where Severus was leaning against a pillar, a question in his eyes but the dark youth merely shook his head a little.  Puzzled, he looked down and saw Narcissa had a golden card in her hands, a wide-eyed look of pleasure on her face.

“It’s from Lord Voldemort,” she exclaimed breathlessly.  “To keep you both forever young,” she read and clutched the card to her chest.  “Oh my, Youth Dew!”

“Oh my, indeed, youth potions are notoriously hard to get hold of and such handsome decanters,” Abraxas commented, also glancing across at Severus who was smirking slightly.  Now the older man knew what his young friend had been up to for the past two weeks.

“Which one next?”  Lucius asked his new bride, making her put the box down and choose between the last two parcels.

“Take the silver one, Narcy,” an inebriated cousin called laughingly.

“Alright, we will,” she giggled and pulled the ribbon which set free a cloud of butterflies and fairies to sparkle in the air.  “Oh, it’s, it’s odd, a bunch of keys!”  She exclaimed pulling out the bundle and examining the huge, old fashioned black iron key surrounded by many other smaller keys of various designs curiously.

Lucius’ eyes went wide as he turned to stare at his father, a question on his lips.  “The keys to the Manor?” he asked quietly.  “But, but you are still alive.”

“Oh, I know but it’s best for the old place to have a new Master and Mistress, get you both settled into the routines and responsibilities before… well, before.”

“Oh, thank you, Father Abraxas,” Narcissa gushed, bouncing up to kiss her new father-in-law on the cheek exuberantly.  “What a fabulous, fabulous notion, and such a beautiful gift.”

Abraxas kissed her forehead back and sent her off to open the last gift, the small blue bundle that rustled like parchment.  Inside were a gift certificate and a piece of carved olive wood, an unusual sort of a gift.  The carved wooden plaque was a Portkey that would take the bearers to the Sun Rider where they would enjoy a private cruise with stopovers wherever they chose for as long as they chose.  The certificate, inside its elaborate curlicues and calligraphy, said that the bearers were to be treated better than royalty aboard the luxury yacht moored in the Aegean Sea and ready for their honeymoon.

“What a delightful surprise!” Narcissa exclaimed, throwing her arms around Lucius’ neck and kissing him soundly.  “How did you guess I have always wanted to go on a real yacht in a real ocean?”

“I didn’t, the gift is from Severus,” Lucius whispered in her ear and laughed as she stiffened.  “Don’t even think of making a scene; it is a beautiful gift and he has chosen it for both of us so we will enjoy every second, do you understand?”

“Of course I understand,” Narcissa muttered back, her delight only slightly tarnished.  “But if Severus is giving us a honeymoon, then what are you giving me?” she added as she let him go and smiled around.  “I have a gift for Lucius, I hope he likes it, only a little one, mind, but I’ll have to give it to him later, and it’s not that, you terrible people,” she exclaimed with a mock pout as a few of the more raucous cousins and friends made crude comments.

Lucius rose to the occasion splendidly.  “I thought we would first go to Paris and Milan and do a little shopping for some holiday clothes, to get us into the mood for our wonderful cruise.  I’m quite sure you will find something on the Continent for the perfect gift.”  He laughed as she flung herself at him again.

“A toast, people.  To the bride and groom, when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping!”  Bella shrieked in laughter, spilling champagne around liberally, the crowd taking up her toast with semi-drunken affability.

 

~~*~~

 

The newlyweds had braved the barrage of rice as they slipped away to the family wing, cheers and laughter sending them on their way, wishes for a busy night and a fruitful union ringing in their ears.  The musicians played more dance music as the guests slowly departed, those too drunk to leave given lodgings for the night or Apparated out by their long suffering spouses.  As the great ballroom cleared, Severus detached himself from his hiding place and directed the staff and house elves to clean up the mess in the morning.  There was a wave of thanks from the weary staff and a few squeaks of house-elf appreciation as the servants departed, leaving him alone in the middle of the room.

“What will you do now, Severus?”

The voice came out of nowhere and had him spinning on his heel, his wand out and a hex on his lips.  He just managed not to say anything as he recognised the tall, dark-haired wizard who was strolling toward him across the now scuffed dance floor.  “My Lord,” he murmured, bowing his head.

“What _will_ you do now, Severus?” the Lord reiterated softly as he approached.

Severus shrugged.  “Go to bed, get some sleep, see what tomorrow brings, I suppose.  I know what you are asking, I’m not stupid, but I can’t answer you at this point.  Lucius is my friend and my lover, the two positions are so intertwined, I cannot change one without affecting the other.  Abraxas is my friend yet he has arranged this wedding, I know and accept the reasons why but I can’t help feeling….”

“Discarded?  Ah, my Severus, one day you will realise that people move on and things change.  It is not always a bad thing, just a fact of life and you too will be able to change and move on, and I will be waiting for you.”  Lord Voldemort smiled gently, cupping the young man’s cheek before moving away toward the family wing.  “Go to bed, Severus, wake up in the morning and know there is always a future.  I must see Abraxas before he sleeps.  Good night, my Severus.”

“Good night, my Lord.”  Their footsteps faded into the night.

 


	7. Chapter 7: Mistress of Malfoy

Cellars  


Ground Floor

First Floor  


Second Floor  


Malfoy Manor was huge, three storeys high, not including cellars, dungeons or attics.  Built around an inner courtyard and two wings, it was sprawling and winding with more nooks and crannies than a completely designed castle.  The original house was now the dividing strut between the two areas and still the prettiest part, reserved for the family’s use.  The rear sections divided off the servants’ quarters, outdoor staff quarters, stables and garages.  In earlier times it had held the kennels, horses, carriages and the private zoo one of the earlier Malfoys had created in the outbuildings.  Now it was inhabited by cars, brooms, the gardeners and home farm staff who rarely if ever came near the main residence except when ordered to bring a car around or to deliver produce to the kitchens.

House staff and kitchen staff - the human varieties - inhabited the upper storeys of the far west wing of the rear section of the Manor, while the public rooms, family suites and guest quarters were situated in the front half.  The entry hall, public rooms and ballroom at Malfoy were often written up in Wizarding Homes of Great Britain as some of the finest examples of 13th century sculpting and wood carving available today and in perfect preservation.  Of course, the upkeep for such a vast ancestral home was staggering, in magic as well as Galleons.  During some periods in the past the Manor had been allowed to degenerate a little, but as soon as the family fortunes rose, the building was brought back into perfect repair.  A Malfoy was always most dedicated to keeping the family property intact, no matter what it took.

Some of the families serving the Malfoys had been there for years, Squibs for the most part but bound to the land and the title by magical ties stretching back six and seven hundred years.  Most pure-blood families had long given up human servants and had only house-elves, but the Malfoys refused to give up a single feudal jot or privilege.  For the most part the families were content.  Malfoy provided schooling for the children, wages for the bread earner, protected the widows and orphans created in its service and pensioned off comfortably those who served her well.  There was an infirmary to care for the births and the sick and a graveyard to bury the dead.  It was said that some of the Malfoy people were born, lived and died without ever leaving Malfoy land.

The estate proper consisted of farm land, forests and lakes, probably one of the largest private estates in England but so guarded and warded that most Muggles never saw the extent.  The lands were self-sustaining and self-supporting in the majority of ways, very little having to be imported or purchased outside the great landholding.  Malfoy was indeed a rich prize and it took a very substantial dowry to make a bride worthy of a Malfoy Groom.

On her wedding day, Narcissa had almost lost her temper when she saw her husband to be standing at the Altar, at his side stood Severus Snape, his bloody lover!  It was a slap in the face, an affront to everything she thought being married stood for.  She had wanted to scream and drum her heels, but good breeding and a thousand drummed in lessons from her mother and sister refused to allow her to give in to her natural inclinations.  Later, at the reception, she had tried to publicly humiliate Snape on the dance floor, then Lucius had agreed that Bella should dance with him and even called for a tango.  Narcissa had thought that would cause the dour man some problems, but he had actually danced very well, even Bella had agreed.  That had not helped her disposition.

At the gift giving, she had been thrilled with the honeymoon she had unwrapped, right up until she realised it had been planned and paid for by none other than Severus Snape.  Lucius had reminded her not to make a scene or say a word out of place, and of course, she had not.  Only in the privacy of their bedroom had she said anything and Lucius had simply informed her that she would just have to make her peace with Snape as he was staying!

Of course, less than three days later, Narcissa was planning to kill both Lucius and Severus when Lucius ended up in his bed rather than hers.  She had done everything she could to make herself interesting to Lucius, but he still went off to his lover, leaving her alone and abandoned.  His father had simply shaken his head and ignored her appeal for him to talk to his son, saying it was not his place to interfere in someone else’s marriage.

Two days later Lucius had come home early and told her to put on her best hat and robes they were off to the Continent for their honeymoon.  She was whisked away with only enough time to grab her wand and a hairbrush, literally having to shop for everything from underwear to make-up in Paris, Milan and Hong Kong.  It had been a mad, whirlwind of laughter and loving and money being spent like pixie dust.  Lucius lavished her with silks and satins, velvets and gossamers.  Diamonds and pearls, opals and rubies were draped around her neck and dripped from her ears.

The honeymoon on the Sun Rider had been a fantastic journey, and she had forgiven Severus who, it seemed, had a romantic streak a mile wide.  He had arranged for stops at the Temple of Aphrodite and the Oracle of Delphi, moonlight carriage rides in Athens and even a private group to serenade them at their first week anniversary dinner.  It was indeed a fairytale honeymoon, and Lucius admitted he could not have done it better if he had tried.  By the time they came home a month later, a silver fox fur cloak draped over her shoulders and swirled around her ankles.

As they came through the double doors and into the Great Hall, Abraxas was there to meet them, hugging them both impartially before hurrying them up the secondary staircase to the family sitting room.  Severus was there, a pool of blackness against the red leather sofa, a faint smile curving his thin bloodless lips when Lucius dragged him to his feet and hugged him hard, then kissed him!  It was humiliating, but Severus merely ignored her glare, kissing Lucius back.  He even had the temerity to lean over and drop a kiss on her cheek, almost daring her to wipe it away.

When she forgot herself enough to grow excited when describing some of their excursions, he even listened politely and laughed in the right places.  When she showed off an under-robe that Lucius did not quite like, he even defended her choice saying not many people could wear that particular shade of green without looking ghastly while Narcissa pulled it off with panache.  After a couple of days she even began to think Severus was not all that bad.  He was quiet of course, barely saying a word sometimes, but he listened well and rarely showed anything but polite interest when she was explaining something or telling a story, unlike Lucius who tended to roll his eyes and sigh a lot.

After a month of constant companionship, Lucius returned to work as the Director of his father’s holdings.  Narcissa understood that he had to do something with his days, but she was bored and did not think he should spend so much time away from her.  Her father did not stay at work from eight in the morning until ten or eleven at night.  Lucius told her very bluntly that her father did not control a multimillion Galleon industrial conglomerate with an income and expenditure greater that that of some small countries.

“You enjoyed your shopping trip, didn’t you?  Where do you think the money comes from to finance these little side trips into fantasy land?  It certainly doesn’t grow on trees!” he snapped angrily when she voiced a reasonable complaint about his late return for the fifth time that week.

“But Lucius, I have no one to talk to all day,” she whined, clinging to his neck.

“Talk to Severus, I have to go.”

Narcissa stared at him in shock.  “Go where?  You just got home!  It’s midnight, where are you going at this time of night?”

“To Europe, not that it’s any of your business.  I’ll see you in a few days.  If you are bored get yourself a hobby or something,” he tossed over his shoulder as he strode out, leaving her sitting on their bed with her mouth hanging open.

 

~~*~~

Truce Talks

 

Narcissa Malfoy lay in her great bed, the finest linen sheets rumpled around her, the lambswool blankets tossed on the floor.  Her pillows were a crumpled mass against the far wall and the fine silk covered duvet showed rents and tears where her nails had shredded the fragile fabric.  Tear tracks stained her porcelain skin and blotches of temper still marred her cheekbones.

Her father had paid a small fortune for the Malfoy Heir to be her groom, a dowry even she did not know the extent of, and where was that bastard not a week after they get back from their honeymoon?  Grinding her teeth in fury, Narcissa pulled her wand and incinerated the confetti-like remains of the Daily Prophet.  The article went up in smoke but the content and the photograph were burned into her mind in living colour.

**Lucius Malfoy courts the Nordstrom Fortune**

_Our roving reporter spotted the newly married Lucius Malfoy in Switzerland skiing with Brunhilda Nordstrom, debutant and heiress to the Nordstrom Pharmaceuticals Conglomerate.  Miss Nordstrom, who announced her engagement to Ludvick von Hass of von Hass Industries only last week, is an old friend of the Malfoy Heir but assured our reporter that they were just good friends.  Mr Malfoy added that they were now negotiating to become business partners and their previous relationship would be an asset in easing the way as their two companies joined forces to conquer the newly opened Russian markets.  Miss Nordstrom declined to comment on the negotiations, but Mr Malfoy assured our reporter that everything was going very well and he would be back at his new bride’s side within the week._

Well, the new bride was not feeling very much like accepting her wayward groom back into the circle of her loving arms right at this moment.  Quite the opposite.  The two timing bastard had better watch his back, or he was going to get blasted all to hell and back as soon as he showed his nose!  She blew up another set of vases just for practice then tossed the last of the bed linen onto the floor and stamped over to her dressing room.

While Lucius was missing in action, she had been cooped up at Malfoy Manor with nothing to do but talk to Severus Snape or Abraxas Malfoy or listen to the radio which only picked up wizarding music.  She had discovered that Severus kept a few Muggle records hidden in his room and he could be persuaded to play them in the evenings sometimes.  Even Abraxas played a mean game of canasta and, if they could persuade Mr Truman, his attendant to loosen up, he and Severus were quite good bridge players.  Still, it was a lot different to the nights she had gone out with her friends and danced at a Muggle pub until after midnight.

She and Severus had declared a truce after the third day of incarceration at Malfoy Manor, talking rather freely about Lucius, love and expectations.  She had never thought much about a man loving a man, but Severus really did love Lucius, fiercely, completely and obsessively in some ways.  When she taxed him with that, he had agreed with a wry smile and a small, depreciating shrug.

“That’s my nature, Narcissa, I am extreme, I cannot help that.  When I love, I love completely and when I hate….”

“You hate with all your heart?” she suggested when he did not continue.

“I destroy utterly,” he corrected with a sigh.  “Lucius calls it my naïve belief in black and white.  My Lord tells me it is part of being raised as a vampire, blind loyalty to the Master, whoever I chose to be my master.  That’s what sets me apart from a genuine vampire; I can choose my own master while a real vampire who is governed by the thirst has to take the one who bit him as his god figure.”

“Is that true, Severus?  Are you a vampire?  There was a rumour that you drank blood to make you so good at potions and things.”  Narcissa leaned forward eagerly, amazed when the pale boy blushed.

“That rumour is founded on pure jealousy and a thoughtless act.  I was covered in blood after one of the Lord’s little demonstration and it sort of called to me.  I was thinking about other things when I realised I was licking the blood off my chin and thoroughly enjoying the taste.  No good gagging, Narcissa, I have probably drunk more blood, human and animal, than any other non-vampire in the world.  She tried everything to turn me except the obvious.”

“What was the obvious and who is ‘she’?” Narcissa murmured, trying not to break the mood.

“She was my grandmother, a firm believer in her own theory that with careful breeding and training you could turn a normal human child into a vampire by triggering recessive traits.  And the obvious would be to ship in a real vampire and have me bitten, but she didn’t.  That would have proved her theory was false so she clung to it stubbornly until it nearly killed me and finally killed her.  So, I don’t need to feed, I don’t need blood to live and I am of no danger to normal humans.  The only real legacy my grandmother instilled in me is a preference for vegetarianism and a need to eat bloody meat once a month.  Sad but true.”  His wry laughter invited her to join in and a real truce was declared, a bond formed.

 

~~*~~

 

The garden room was cool and comfortable first thing in the morning.  Severus liked to breakfast there and read quietly while he had the time free.  Today was no exception, Lucius being away on business and Abraxas taking a nap even though it was barely ten thirty in the morning.  His studies were up to date and he had only to write up his research project to finish it off.  Reaching out a hand, he groped around and found his cup of tea without lifting his eyes from the page.  He was totally engrossed in the text and did not hear the footsteps on the stairs, only a scuff of feet on stone.

“You’re here at least.”  The disgruntled tones made him close his eyes for a moment, gathering his patience.  That note in Narcissa’s voice was a clear indicator of dissatisfaction.  “What are you reading?” Narcissa demanded, flopping into the armchair and crossing her arms over her chest, her foot tapping.

“’The Unicorn Diaries’ by Cornelius Weatherbane,” Severus grunted, turning his shoulder pointedly to discourage her conversation.

Narcissa sniffed disinterestedly and leaned forward to investigate the teapot, sighing in disgust when she found it contained black tea, nothing interesting.  “I’m bored!  What’s the book like?” she asked, eyeing the black leather bound tome with an uneasy glare.  “Read a bit to me!” she demanded when he did not answer.

“Narcissa!  Why don’t you go and find something to do instead of bothering me?” Severus demanded, slapping the book down on his chest to glare at her.

“Because I don’t know what to do, what am I supposed to do?  No one told me what I was supposed to do once I got married, just that I had to get married.”

About to blast her, Severus stopped with his mouth open then shut it with a click.  She did have a valid point and complaint.  “I never thought about it.  What do married women do once they are married?  Look after the house, I suppose.”

“But that’s what servants are for.  And besides, I could never look after this place properly, not by myself.  I wouldn’t know where to start,” Narcissa added honestly.

“True, and if you tried I’m sure Madame Johnson would have something to say about you intruding on her territory.  When Abraxas finishes his nap, you should ask him what his wife used to do, he will have some idea.  Perhaps there is a hereditary Malfoy Wife’s Duty List floating around somewhere.”

Narcissa giggled then nodded.  “Good idea.  Do you have any friends, Severus?”

Frowning thoughtfully, Severus shook his head.  “Not really, apart from Lucius, Abraxas and perhaps Tom, but that is enough for me.”

“Did you know Lucius was going off to Switzerland to pork that Nordstrom bitch?”

Severus burst out laughing.  “Meow!  Lucius does what the hell he likes, I don’t hold his chain, no more do you, my dear.  If he wants to go tomcatting around Europe then I suggest you either go with him or go find your own lover.  I’m sure he won’t mind a threesome every now and again, but count me out.”

“That’s a foul thing to suggest!”  Narcissa gasped.

“I must admit that it doesn’t appeal to me either.  I prefer my lover’s full attention when in bed with him.”

“Your lover is my husband!”  Narcissa snarled furiously.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, which is why this is such a surreal conversation we are having,” he murmured with a sly grin.  “Narcissa, here’s a word of advice, if you are willing to listen.  Luc and I have been together for the last three years.  He had gone out picking up strays before, but he always came home again, without a hanger-on.  I am the only one he brought home in all that time.  Now he has you, his legal wife, and hopefully the mother of his future children.  You are important to the Family, much more so than I am, so enjoy that security but do not think it gives you any immunity to the famous Malfoy temper, it does not.  If you pick at him when he comes back, he will not like it at all and will go off on another trip almost immediately.  I learned that lesson early in our relationship.  If you accept him back and simply acknowledge that he has strayed but you are still glad to see him, he will be contrite and pliable for quite a long time before he feels the need to stray again.  However, I do not suggest you stray until after your first child is born.  After the birth you can discuss the taking of a lover with him calmly and rationally before going out looking.  If he has any doubt about your child’s parentage, he will destroy it, and you too, do you understand me?”  Severus spoke calmly and conversationally, but Narcissa was still horrified.

“What sort of monster do you think Lucius is that he would destroy his own child?”

Severus clicked his tongue impatiently.  “I said if he had any doubts about the child’s parentage he would kill it, that’s all.  Just make sure he never has any doubts.  Ask him, he will give you the same warning.”

Biting her lip, Narcissa picked up the teacup on the table and drank the brew before spluttering and pulling a horrendous face.  “This is awful!  How can you bear this tea, it’s stewed!  Honestly, can’t you make tea properly?”

“I thought I was,” Severus remarked, taken aback.  “Put in tea and boil, then pour.”

“No, silly.  Boil, then put in tea and steep, then pour.  I thought you were a Potions Master?” she teased lightly, banishing the failed brew and making a fresh pot, conjuring clean cups.  “There, isn’t that better?  Do you want milk or lemon?”

Severus grinned, having successfully diverted her away from her griping.  “Lemon, please.”

“Lemon it is.  So read me a bit of your book, you never did say what it as about.”

“Are you completely sure you want to know?  Very well, I did warn you,” he temporised before turning to the next page.  “’ _They strained against each other, their tongues entwined and their hard co_ \--”

“Severus Snape!  It doesn’t say any such thing!”  Narcissa gasped and flung herself forward, wrenching the tome free and quickly scanning the page.  “Oh, you torment!  It’s about real unicorns, not smut!  Where did you get this?  It’s fantastic!  Listen to this.  ‘ _This morning I watched as the lead mare of the herd used her horn to cure a cut on her foal’s hind leg.  The stallion looked on but made no move to assist, or to hinder her work._ ’  And the pictures… oh Severus, they’re beautiful!”

Severus smiled at her wonder, knowing how she felt.  There was something wondrous about the drawings the author had made - more magical than ordinary wizard drawings - that drew the eye and sparked something deep in the soul.  Nodding, he reached over and turned back a few pages to show her some of the earlier pictures that made her exclaim aloud, curling up next to him to share the book.

“Well, this looks cosy,” a voice said in amusement some undefined time later and both heads popped up in surprise.

“Abraxas,” Severus said in greeting, a rare genuine smile curving his lips.  “She stole my book and wouldn’t give it back unless I shared.”

“Hah, he tried to convince me it was pornography so I would leave him alone.  He has a nasty mind, this one!” Narcissa stuck her nose in the air but spoiled it by giggling.

“It must be a fascinating book.  Oh yes, the Unicorn Diaries, Cornelius Weatherbane was a keen observer, and I believe he even managed to get the unicorns to bless his book when he had finished it.  Quite a wizard!  Shame he had to keep the state that a unicorn respects, not that you two would know anything about that.  Celibacy, my dense children, only virgins get to play with unicorns.”

Severus and Narcissa looked at each other and burst out laughing.  “He has a point,” Severus conceded as he rose and helped his friend to a cup of tea.  “Narcissa wants to know what a Malfoy wife does with herself all day.  I wondered if you could help her.”

“Of course, my dear, of course.  Really, Lucius should have given you the tour, but this stupid Nordstrom thing blew up in our faces when Miss Nordstrom’s fiancé became involved in that idiotic fake yeti wool scandal.  Humm, it seemed he was assigned to procure a batch of yeti wool, but the fool tried to cut corners and bought from an unknown supplier.  It turned out to be a fake - yak wool instead of yeti - so as you can imagine there were failed potions left and right, and if you know what sort of potions call for yeti wool, well, I can tell you it was not pretty.”

“So he didn’t go out there to romance Miss Nordstrom at all?” Narcissa asked in a small voice.

Abraxas shook his head ruefully.  “Young husbands, they do make the silliest mistakes.  No, my dear, he did not, he went to show support for the company, his belief in Nordstrom Pharmaceuticals and to screw them down to a really decent trading arrangement.  Now, let me see, I think I have my wife’s daily diary in my office.  Severus, do pop along and see if you can find it, would you?  Narcissa, my dear, call for a light luncheon for us all, would you please.  We may as well be comfortable while we are exploring the possibilities.”

 

~~*~~

 

The Housekeeper

Madame Johnson had been in charge of Malfoy Manor for the past twenty years, having taken the position when Madame Foxglove finally died.  She had been somewhat troubled by the installation of a new Mistress but had decided that it was her house and she could deal with any young upstart who tried to upset her arrangements.  When the new bride failed to invite her to Afternoon Tea, Madame Johnson was indeed put out, snubbed even!

Sylvester McIntire, the Butler, tried to tell her that it was because there was no Lady Malfoy to tell the new bride what to do and that the old master was too sick to do things properly, but she wasn’t buying any of that rot!  The girl was hoity-toity enough to demand this and that and to expect her orders to be obeyed but not to acknowledge that someone was there before her!  Well, she could just continue to be an interloper; the reckoning would come soon enough, that’s all Madame Jolanta Johnson could say about that!

The summons when it finally came was a handsome one, written on creamy parchment with prized purple ink and a proper seal ribbon in purple wax.  The fact that it was a month late in arriving was what annoyed Madame Johnson as she pulled on her best uniform robes and brushed her hair into a formidable crown of plaits and curls.  Her cap, the best lace and linen, was perched on top of the edifice and her starched white apron rustled suggestively as she made her way majestically down the passageway to the family drawing room.  Scratching at the panels, she sailed into the well lit room overlooking the gardens and curtsied formally staring down her nose at the small, blonde girl who looked somewhat apprehensive.  And so she should.

“Please, won’t you sit down, Madame Johnson,” Narcissa invited softly, indicating a chair beside her at the small tea table.

“Thank you, Madame,” Madame Johnson replied haughtily and took the straight-backed chair opposite.

Narcissa smiled at the woman, realising she had a fight on her hands.  This one was going to be a real bitch about handing over the reins of power on the domestic scene.  “I must ask you to forgive me before we start.  I had no idea I was supposed to meet you as soon as possible.  In fact, dear Abraxas had no idea either until we found his wife’s diaries and her book of Etiquette for the New Malfoy Bride.  I didn’t have a clue that it even existed until we found it in Lady Malfoy’s desk.  Abraxas has never disturbed her things, as you know.”

“No, Madame, he never has.  We were given strict instructions and my girls know their place to be sure.  Lady Malfoy’s arrangements have never been changed.”

“Yes, they are a credit to your organisation; there is no doubt about that.  Running this place successfully would take a general and an army and I am no general, certainly not of Lady Malfoy’s calibre, I do assure you.  May I offer you tea or coffee?  I have no intention of disturbing your arrangements over the general running of the house and staffing matters.  You are much more experienced in that sort of thing than I.  However, on some occasions I may have to make a special request of you.  I hope you may help me when such a time comes.”

“We’ll have to see about that when it happens, won’t we, Madame,” the woman replied uncompromisingly.

“Yes, I’m sure we will.  I will of course be meeting the Butler, the Chief Cook and kitchen staff as soon as I can, to compliment them on their efforts for the wedding, a perfect occasion, you must agree?  Everyone did so well.”

“There is no need to meet the cook, I will inform the kitchen staff that you were pleased with their efforts,” Madame Johnson said repressively.

“Oh certainly, it will only serve to reinforce my compliments, I am sure,” Narcissa replied with another sunny smile that would have fooled no one.  “Now I also read that I was supposed to keep an eye on the household accounts and give Lucius a report once a month.  Do you know where the account books are?”

“No Madame, I do not.  I have been taking care of that sort of thing so there’s no need for you to worry your head about it.”

“Oh, but I must, Madame Johnson.  Lucius expects me to be a proper Malfoy wife, and so I must follow all the traditions, don’t you see?  I must ask Abraxas to look for the accounts books.  I’m sure he or Severus can _Accio_ them for me.”  She smiled shark-like over her teacup’s rim at the woman opposite, battle lines drawn and weapons chosen.

“You must do as you think fit, Madame, of course.”  Madame Johnson smiled back with equal venom.

“So tell me about yourself, Madame, how long have you served the Malfoy family?  Were you born here on the estate or are you a ‘foreigner’?”

“My husband’s family has been on Malfoy land for four hundred years,” she replied flatly.

“Ah, so you married into the position, just like me then.  Interesting how we take on our husband’s causes as our own, isn’t it?  And in what capacity does your husband serve the Manor, if I may inquire?”

“He’s dead, Madame, died during the Grindelwald war,” the woman said proudly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but I have mis-titled you then, it should be Widow Johnson, shouldn’t it?  You must have been very young when you were widowed, such a pity.”

“Yes, Madame Malfoy, barely eighteen when my Richard was taken from me.”

“Humm, so you were a wife for how long?  Six months, ah, and a widow for sixty years or so, well, well, interesting!  A pity really, I shall have to speak to someone else about a few matrimonial matters, who would you recommend?  After all, you are no more experienced in these matters than I.”  Narcissa giggled, covering her mouth in a show of self-consciousness.  “How long has the Cook been married?  Or perhaps the Butler is married and his wife may serve as my aide de camp on these matters.”

Madame Johnson knew when to concede a battle and the last thing she wanted was to have Letty McIntire usurp any of her authority or power.  As for the Cook, he was male and never married, probably one of Severus Snape’s lot, if the truth be known.  She drew herself up firmly and gave the chit a serene smile.  “Oh, I think you will find I am well versed in matrimonial matters.  I have dealt with every conceivable problem forty years of looking after the girls and women under my command have thrown my way.  After all, you don’t need to be a killer to be a great general, do you?”

“Oh, I thought you did, but I could be wrong.  Very well, we’ll see how we rub along before I make any firm decisions on that issue.  Now, the process rooms, I want to keep them as they are until I am more familiar with their working.  From what I have seen they are much better organised than my mother’s so I must learn your methods.  Mother was very strict with her people, but it was a strictness of panic rather than the strictness of capability, if you see what I mean.”

Amazed that she had won that crucial battle so easily, Jolanta Johnson nodded her head and agreed to give the new bride a tour as soon as possible.  She was so pleased with the girl’s astuteness, it wasn’t until she was back in her own rooms that she realised she had lost both the accounts and the kitchens as bases of power.  In fact, when she thought about the interview, she had come away with no more and no less than was usually granted a housekeeper in the long run in any house with a real mistress.  Ah well, she would see how the girl handled the kitchens before she passed any further judgement.  After all, the chit was not the vapid little blonde she seemed to be, but Jolanta had been intimidating their poor excuse for a cook ever since the idiot arrived and installing her own people anywhere she could.  Everyone knew that those girly boys had no backbone to speak of!  A few choice words said in the right ears would send him running for London with his tail between his legs.

 

~~*~~

 

The Butler

McIntire had been the Malfoy Butler for sixty years, appointed when the present Lord Malfoy was newly ascended.  He had watched Lady Malfoy grow into her power, watched young Lucius at his Naming, and helped him take his first steps.  He had helped young Lucius dress for his mother’s funeral and had mourned the passing of an era with the rest of the staff.  Lady Malfoy had not ruled long but she had ruled well, and it would take a strong woman to follow in her footsteps.

Young Madame Malfoy had not done well so far.  Slighting Jolanta Johnson and putting her back up was not a wise move for any young bride.  Of course, Jolanta was actually a foreigner so you couldn’t expect too much tolerance or loyalty from that sort.  The shame was that young Madame Malfoy was not going to have the guidance of Lady Malfoy to show her how to behave and how to hold household.  Still, the old guard would stand by her and try to guide her steps as she learned, even if Jolanta did not like it.

Madame was very gracious when she invited him for tea, even pouring for them both with a rare grace.  She asked about Mrs McIntire and the young McIntires, entering into his concerns about young people not getting the employment opportunities these days, what with the big old houses closing their doors.  She listened to his stories of the older days and even encouraged him to reminisce about young Master Malfoy when he was a boy, learning to fly his broom and getting stuck in the hedge that made up the maze.

As the teapot emptied, they touched on the old man’s duties and his concerns about the boys and men under his captaincy.  She entered into his worries and even gave gently tendered suggestions on how to channel some of the boys’ exuberance into something a little more constructive than trying to ride the local bull.  Although he had to admit her giggles over the story of the bull race were a treat to see.  He confided to her that the silver needed to be overhauled and a few pieces mended as they had not been done for nigh on forty years and the everyday china for the staff needed replacing as soon as possible.  He also reported the roof leaked at the back of the West wing and that a new set of charms needed to be put in place and that old Master Colbane was not as young as he used to be and perhaps needed to be seen to.

On inquiry, Narcissa learned Master Colbane was the maintenance coordinator for the Manor, and he ran the heavy maintenance division who looked after the plumbing, the roof, building maintenance and of course the removal and treatment of soil.  He and his crew dealt in a mixture of charms and physical labour and the job was a specialist position with a crew of twenty men under him.  Young Master Colbane was well groomed to take his father’s place, but the old man insisted on hanging on long past his usefulness.  Mr McIntire was asking permission to ease the old man out, Narcissa realised and told him he should do as he saw fit, of course.

All in all, it was a very productive meeting and McIntire came away with a very good impression of the new mistress, also a desire to please her, support her and engage with her ideas.  Jolanta may huff and puff, but Madame was not about to change everything they had built over the years and so he was totally satisfied.  Jolanta merely huffed louder and commented that the first hint of trouble would certainly give them a measure of her stripe!

 

~~*~~

 

The Cook

Ralph Munroe was a tiny, weedy little man, totally nondescript with a broad cockney accent when he forgot himself.  He looked sly and furtive as he refused to meet Madame Malfoy’s eyes when he came to Afternoon Tea on the third day.  He was nothing like the Black’s Cook, a huge, bustling woman who radiated good cheer and ruled the kitchen with an iron ladle.  No matter what topic Narcissa tried to bring into conversation, he replied in monosyllables in a tiny, mumbled voice.

“How do you feel a kitchen should be run?” she asked desperately at the finish.

The little man blinked then mumbled again.

“I’m sorry, Ralph, may I call you Ralph?  I – I need to know about the kitchens, how they are run, what needs to be changed, what needs to be done or I cannot make sure Malfoy Manor maintains standards.  I am told that you are the person in charge of the kitchen and you are also in charge of ordering and purchases for the kitchen.  Now please, answer my questions,” Narcissa ordered firmly.

“Am I in charge of the kitchens then?” the man suddenly looked up, his muddy brown eyes now intense and keen.

“That is what I was led to believe by the Housekeeper.  Of course, if it is too....”  She broke off as the small man jumped to his feet and began pacing furiously.

“That blurry old cow!  She tol’ me you was arsing me out cus I wouldn’ take notice of her orders.  She tol’ me you was disgusted wi’ the modern crap an’ foreign muck I were tryin’ to feed youse an’ wus goin’ to put me off as soon as her cousin were here.”

“Really?  How very interesting.  Actually, I was going to tactfully ask you to change the menus a little, perhaps add lighter, Chinese and Asian style food and a little less stodgy British puddings and boiled foods.  I rather admire some of the Mediterranean salads and such which are very good for Lord Malfoy’s condition, rather than black pudding.  Although I think Severus eats that awful stuff to keep his iron levels up.”  She smirked, remembering how foul Severus really found the black sausage.

“Nah, garn with you, Lord Snape is a fish and vegetarian eater with Steak Tartar every twenty-nine days regular, er, Madame,” the man twinkled at her, then blushed and dropped his eyes when he realised he had been too familiar.

“Yes, I know but it is fun to tease him sometimes, keeps him from getting totally stodgy.”  Narcissa giggled then became a little more serious.  “I have no intention of ‘getting rid’ of anyone just yet, not until I am quite aware of the dynamics between the staff, the departments and the routines behind the work.  I hereby authorise you to take control of the kitchens and all things so pertaining to the preparation and presentation of foodstuffs, including buying and procurement, until further notice.  That is my official word.  I will make requests of you at some points, either for special meals or to cater for parties or events and you may do as you think fit within the framework of those requests but in the day to day running of the kitchens, it’s all yours until further notice.  Do what you need to, to make that position very clear to anyone who disputes it.  If you need to call on a higher authority, you may refer them to me, or if that is not enough, refer them to Lucius, but only as a last resort.  If you have to kill anyone, you had better have a very good reason as I will make you find and train the replacement, and get rid of the body.  Do you understand?”

“Oh yes, Ma’am!”  His grin stretched from ear to ear as he bowed in continental style.  “Er, you want me to sort out the pastry chef too?  She’s pretty good with plain stuff, but we could use a confectioner if you plan to do a lot of entertainment.  One of the girls and one of the lads were interested in taking a course in London.”

Narcissa smiled.  “As I said, it’s your department, do as you think fit, including train people to fill perceived needs.  Oh, and on occasion I will need you to cater for a special guest at very short notice, can you do that?”

Ralph nodded slowly.  “I am a wizard, not a very good one, none of the staff are, but I have enough power to knock up a small dinner party for up to twelve with a quarter hour’s notice.”

“Would a time turner be helpful?”

“No, bless you, that is my one claim to fame, I can make time do some extraordinary things if I need to, within a twenty metre radius.”  He grinned at her surprised look and bowed again.  “I’ll send you up some sample menus and some sample foods for dinner, if you like, Madame?”

“Thank you, that would be delightful.  Just family tonight, I think.  Lucius isn’t due home until tomorrow.”

 

~~*~~

 

Group Dynamics

The first skirmish in the Battle of the Kitchen began at four o’clock that afternoon, Jolanta sweeping into the usually steamy confines of the place with a glare that could have melted pots.  A brisk, cooling breeze came in through the wide flung windows making the kitchens much more pleasant to work in.  She immediately swept a wand over the windows, slamming them all shut one after the other until the fusillade of bangs made a heavy silence fall over the staff.  Ralph emerged from his office where he was just putting the finishing touches to the menus for the following day, the light of battle in his eyes.

“What do you think you are doing, you stupid little cretin, letting the good heat out to the fresh air, inviting any passing insect to come and sample dinner before the humans get to eat?” Jolanta roared, hands on hips, elbows akimbo.

“Get out of my kitchen and don’t come poking your nose in again!”  Ralph snapped back, going at her like a terrier to a Bull Mastiff.  “Get those damned windows open again before the lettuce wilts and the jelly weeps!”

“Don’t you dare!  What lettuce?  Today is Thursday; it’s Shepherd’s Pie and roasted vegetables today.  It’s always Shepherd’s Pie on Thursday.”

“Not anymore,” he replied smugly as his staff slowly opened the windows.  He noticed who had moved and who hadn’t.  “From now on, the Mistress wants a healthy diet for the Lord, with more vegetables and less meats.  She wants high-energy, low-fat foods and more Asian cuisine which do not include Shepherd’s Pie, Toad in the Hole and Spotted Dick!  And that reminds me, your cousin is not welcome in my kitchen, nor is any of your shirt-tail relatives, unless they are trained staff or kitchen hands, is that understood!”

“Listen, you jumped up little queer, you will do as you are told and like it!” the woman roared, raising her fist.

Ralph leaped back, a large meat cleaver flying to his hand as he roared furiously, waving it threateningly in the general direction of her nose but only reaching her chest.  “The mistress warned me to clean up my own mess if I had to kill anyone.  I got a great place by the onions to bury a few bodies, you wanna be the first?” he demanded, all but foaming at the mouth.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Jolanta blustered, backing away from the furious little banty cock and his extremely large and shiny meat cleaver!

“Try me,” he snapped, making a little rush and she picked up her robes and fled, his mocking laughter following her.  “Anyone else ‘ho had a problem wit’ loyalties can just piss off too,” he added, glaring around the general kitchen.  “This is my patch from now on, the lines of demarcation have been drawn by the Mistress and the’ull be properly enforced from now on.  Are we all understood ‘ere?  Right, let’s get on wit‘it?  How is that Crème Caramel coming on, Doris?”

 

~~*~~

 

Resulting in

“Goodness me, did we get a new cook?” Abraxas asked in surprise as a light consommé was served rather than the usual Scotch Broth or Cream of Tomato.  “This is truly delicious, my dear.”

Narcissa smiled widely, sipping her own soup and approving it with a nod.  “No, actually I simply made the hierarchy of the domestic staff clearer and the Chef took control of his own kitchen.  He is even better than I suspected.  What do you think, Severus?”

Severus nodded a little but reserved judgement until the meal finished with a choice of dessert that included Crème Caramel or English Trifle.  “He could use a few better quality herbs and spices; the chervil was not as fresh as it could be.”

“That’s a potion ingredient, Severus, why would it be in the salad?” Narcissa asked in surprise then blushed in irritation when Severus rolled his eyes in disgust.

“Most of the common herbs and spices we eat are also used in potions although not in the same sort of combinations and quantities.  Of course, if I find half a common cabbage butterfly caterpillar in here I will not be impressed.”

“Oh yuck, Severus!  Only _you_ would think of something like that!  Inappropriate humour spotted there,” she groaned, making him snigger and Abraxas smile.  Although the children would never be real friends, their friendly bickering was a lot better than the cold, stony silence and over-bred manners they had used to each other in the past.

“So, my dear, are you feeling more at home with being Lady Malfoy now?” Abraxas asked as they drank after-dinner coffee and ate peppermint truffles handmade in their own kitchens.

“Humm, I certainly didn’t realise just how much went on behind the scenes but I am certainly learning.  It is a small army with generals and rivalries, politics and coups to be brokered and sorted out, better than office politics, believe me.”

“Well, if you need to dispose of any bodies, make sure you do it properly.  Our own people should be turned over to the Master of Rites, whom I think you still need to meet officially but that must wait until Lucius is home.  Anyone else, we usually make it look like an accident and get rid of them as far from us as possible.”

“Give them to me and I will dispose of them,” Severus said quietly as he picked up another truffle.  “Wonder if they make these in hazelnut too,” he commented, popping the sweet into his mouth and closing his eyes in appreciation.  “Almost better than sex.”

Narcissa and Abraxas just laughed at his ecstatic expression.

 

~~*~~

 

Ralph Munroe put his feet up on his desk and crossed his hands behind his head, grinning at the ceiling in tired satisfaction.  He’d braved the Lady of the Manor and found her to be a gracious lady and not a horrendous monster.  He had taken control of his kitchen and made it his own domain at last, implementing some of his own ideas in both the style of food and the methods of preparation.  Last of all, he had routed the Bitch from Hell with a meat cleaver, sending her running from his kitchen with her tail between her legs and her tongue between her teeth.

He had sent up the fruits of his kitchen to the Family and they had welcomed them, every dish.  He had received a note from the Lord, a note from the Lady and a note from Lord Snape too.

Lord Abraxas asked if he could make gumbo like the Americans in New Orleans.  If he could, was it possible to have that one lunch time?  And perhaps he knew how to make Angel Hair pasta?  That would be a very acceptable addition to the menus.  Ralph was determined to make the best gumbo and angel hair pasta available, as soon as possible.

Lady Malfoy sent all the menus he had given her back, each and every one approved without change, not even a single side dish rejected, a miracle!  She had also added in her notes that he was even better than she thought he might be and to keep up the good work.

Last of all, Lord Snape had written simply that the food was greatly improved and would be even better for fresh herbs so he had permission to harvest what he needed from the potions garden, a huge concession that Ralph had not expected but was greatly appreciative of.

To acquire herbs for the kitchen usually meant they were at least a day old but this way, he could literally cut what he needed within an hour of using them.  The potions garden had such a range and variety of herbs it was almost impossible to name them all and the gardeners lavished so much time, attention and magic on the plants, they were perfect!

Severus Snape had also asked if they could make hazelnut or cherry bonbons too, some evening.  So, Ralph thought, our dark and gloomy Potions Master has a sweet tooth, has he?  Well, that was a titbit of information Ralph would put aside for further investigation at a later date and training the two under-chefs who wanted to learn to be confectioners was looking like a very good idea.

Folding the three notes, he put them away safe in the safe and blew out the candles before making his way to bed, new ideas for exciting new dishes dancing like will-o’-the-wisps in his head.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8: Skirmish

_The Costumed Event_

 

Someone was stealing gold shipments from Malfoy Enterprises in South America.  Five shipments had disappeared in the past few months as if by magic.  That was a worry as all the magic dampening fields were checked and rechecked every day so that no one _could_ use magic around the mines.  The pirates were clever, knowing exactly which the richest shipments were and which were the dummy loads with perfect accuracy.  Or inside information, both Malfoys concluded after the second load.  When the sixth load disappeared, the pressure mounted on the refining plants as they did not have enough ore to process and had to put off workers.  Consequently, Lucius spent little time at home, working around the clock to cover all possibilities and to make sure his private Auror force were properly motivated to find the culprits as fast as possible.

In the first few weeks Narcissa was understanding, but by the time a month had flown by and she had not seen her husband on more than three occasions she was understandably peevish.  Her temper finally broke on the morning of the sixth week when she was recapping who would be at the next charity event and speculating on what they would be wearing.

“You will look the best of all, as always, no matter what you wear,” Narcissa giggled, patting Lucius’ arm agreeably.

“Humm?  What?  Oh, I’m sorry, my dear, I am off to the Amazon this afternoon and I probably won’t get back for a few days.  We have a lead on the gold thieves,” Lucius told her absently, finishing his coffee while reading reports.

“What?  Oh no!  Oh no, no, no!  I stayed home from the Shrillings’ Ball and I missed out on the Parkinsons’ first official reception, not that that was a bad anything.  From what I heard it was a shambles.  I really hated to miss Cousin Rigel’s soiree. But he understood the circumstances.  I did not complain, I did not fuss, I was good and well behaved, no tears or recriminations but, Lucius, I will not miss the St Mungo’s Music in the Park charity concert, do you hear me, I will not!  Nor will I miss the Masked Ball that follows!”

“Narcissa, be reasonable,” Lucius said impatiently.  “It’s only some stupid concert, not the end of the world.  Hell, if you are that upset, I will take you to the opera, in Italy even, after we get this gold theft problem sorted out.”

“No-o!  Lucius!  Don’t be dense, who cares about the stupid music, you go to see and be seen, not to listen to some stupid band ruin perfectly good songs!  It’s a costumed event and I have even designed you a beautiful costume so you just have to take me, you have to!” she wailed pitifully, tears running down her face but he was not moved no matter how she railed or persuaded.

“Enough!” he thundered, slamming down his napkin and surging to his feet.  “If it’s that important to you, ask Severus to take you, I am busy!”

“Severus?” Narcissa squawked.  “Don’t be ridiculous, he never comes out of the dungeon unless you are here or the Dark Lord calls for him.  He would never come just because I ask him to,” she added self-pityingly.

Grinding his teeth, Lucius stormed over to the Floo and thrust his head in after a handful of floo powder.  “Severus!  Get up now!  I don’t care if you just got to bed, I want you!  And for Merlin’s sake, put a robe on, or don’t,” he added with a smirk as the younger man growled at him.

With his hair all over the place and his eyes half-closed, Severus looked absurdly young when he stumbled out of the fireplace and flopped into a chair in the breakfast room.  Narcissa thoughtfully handed him a cup of tea which he drank without complaining that it had sugar and milk, which proved he was more asleep than awake.  Even Lucius’ temper thawed a little and he grinned as he sat down opposite.

“Awake enough, Severo, I have a task for you.  I want you to escort Narcissa to her concert thing tomorrow as I cannot take her and it is important that we be seen to be upholding and supporting St Mungo’s.  Are you with me so far?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever,” the younger man mumbled, eyes half mast, head propped on one hand.

“It’s a costume thing so she will sort out something for you to wear, is that acceptable?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Narcissa and Lucius exchanged looks, then grinned mischievously.  “And she has a beautiful ball dress for you for the night time engagement.  You will look lovely in pink.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, what... WHAT!”  His eyes flew open and he glared at both of them, making them laugh even harder.  “Oh, you are just so funny, a real barrel of laughs.  So what is it you want me to do?”

“Take Narcissa to her concert tomorrow and look after her, Severo, there are… threats, and I have to be in South America,” Lucius added on a more serious note.  “Protect her, just in case.”

“With my life,” Severus promised in off-handed sleepy agreeability, a crooked smile making his lover smile back.  “And what’s this about a Ball dress?  Or was I dreaming?”

“You were dreaming,” Narcissa giggled.

“I will send my man up with your costume for the concert and he will help you dress.  Damn, I have to go!  Look after yourselves, loves,” Lucius murmured and kissed them both before dashing off to pick up the papers he would need for his trip.

Narcissa and Severus exchanged slightly embarrassed glances before Severus Flooed back to his room and his bed.  Narcissa flopped back into her chair and began to plan a whole new costume for Severus.

 

oo0oo

 

Severus glared at the gentleman’s gentleman, who merely stared back without a change of expression.  The man seemed to be impervious to glares and immovable when it came to matters of sartorial elegance.  The offending items were simply arranged on the bed, lying there in mute testimony to twisted minds of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.  They were obscene, a bloody cliché and he was not prepared to become that cliché, not even for his lover!

“If Sir would care to dress?” Mr Loomis said with a completely blank expression.

“No!  _Sir_ would not care to change unless it involved the Malfoys and a transfiguration charm.  And I’m not wearing that lot, unless there are a great many layers of fabric between _Sir_ and the eyes of the public!” Severus snapped furiously, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

Mr Loomis kept eyes front but his thoughts were his own.

When there was no argument from the man, Severus humphed in disgust and poked the pile of leather and cashmere grumpily.  “I wouldn’t mind if there was a proper robe to go over it but this is Muggle clothing, isn’t it?  I will not dress like a bloody Muggle for anyone, do you understand that?”

Mr Loomis nodded his expression sympathetic.  “I quite understand and I do sympathise with your sentiments, Sir, but it is fancy dress, Lord Snape.  Lady Malfoy is also dressing as a, er, Muggle, to match, I believe.”  The man stepped forward and lifted the black leather trousers to hold them up for Severus’ closer examination.  “They are well cut, Sir, in the latest Muggle style, er, flares, I believe they are called.”

“Mr Loomis, I do not need to know what they are called, I simply do not wish to wear them!” Severus reiterated then backed away as the man stepped forward, fishing in his pocket.

“Lord Malfoy asked me to give you this if you were uneasy about joining in the game.”

Severus took the note and read it, incinerating it with a wandless glare and a grinding of teeth.  “Damn that bastard!  Damn him to hell!  Very well, give me the bloody things!”

Climbing into the leather, Severus snarled bitterly as Mr Loomis used his wand to fit the butter soft fabric to his long legs, tucking here, easing here until the fit was perfect.  Still disgusted, Severus pulled on the cashmere turtleneck sweater and picked up the black leather bomber jacket which immediately lengthened and widened until it was robe-like in its dimensions.  While leather robes were probably not recommended, it was the best Severus was going to allow before he left the suite.  Glaring at the gentleman’s gentleman, he exited the suite, but Mr Loomis’ magic followed him to slowly shrink the swath of leather back down to manageable proportions.

Narcissa stood in the family foyer, tapping her foot impatiently.  She wore a white outfit exactly corresponding to Severus’, white leather pants, white leather boots, a white cashmere jumper and a white short-waisted leather jacket.  She had added a gold chain supporting a diamond drop almost as big as the Star of Africa and earrings to match.  Chunky gold bracelets ran up both arms interspersed with diamonds and pearls.  As Severus entered, she smiled then raised an eyebrow when she finally saw his outfit, clapping her hand unconsciously.

“Oh, you do look good!  Lucius was right, you really suit tight trousers, he said you had a very elegant arse and legs.  Whoops, sorry!” she apologised, a slightly contrite smirk lifting a lip.  “I wasn’t supposed to say that!  Mind you,” she added thoughtfully, “you really do look good, who would have thought it?”

Severus narrowed his eyes at her.  “What is this, monochrome for beginners?” he asked grumpily, walking around her to take in the full effect of her white, tightly packed outfit.

Narcissa sighed.  “We are supposed to be light and shadow, both sides of the Malfoy trinity and Lucius is supposed to be half black and half white in the middle,” she said with a sigh.  “Oh, come on, Severus, surely you are not that naïve?  We are the accessories that make Lucius notorious, you - his male lover – and I – his female wife.”

Severus bristled then shook his head slightly, sighing deeply.  “I was aware of my notoriety but I was not aware that you were aware,” he said then smiled wryly.  “That was a mouthful, wasn’t it?”

“To be perfectly frank, Severus, I wish you did not exist,” Narcissa said with devastating honesty.  “But you do and there is nothing I can do about you except live with it.  So, if it is a fact, then we had better rub peoples’ noses in that fact until it becomes so common-place that no one makes comment on it ever again, you understand?”

Severus sighed then nodded.  “I understand but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.  For a start these trousers leave you so exposed to the external gaze, anyone might ogle you,” he grumbled bitterly.

“But, darling, no one would look unless there was something worth looking at.  For a skinny, horse-faced vampire, you have a rather delectable arse and a very nice pair of legs.”  Narcissa grinned at him and laughed when he blushed bright scarlet.  “If you have it, you should flaunt it, Severus.  And if you are really self-conscious, then leave the jacket at hip length, although shorter would be much, much better.”

Severus huffed and puffed but did shorten the jacket.  “If anyone passes a comment, I will hold you fully responsible!” he told her grumpily.  “What time does this stupid event start?”

“Oh my goodness, we have to go!”  Narcissa yelped, consulting her watch and dashing toward the Floo, grabbing Severus' hand in passing.  “Come on, Severo, we have to fly!  Wait a minute!  Why are you clinking?”

“Er, a few, er, simple well chosen potions, just in case of emergencies, you know?” he muttered then glared at her.  “I thought you said we were late?”

Exasperated, she dragged him off to the Floo.

 

oo0oo

_St Mungo’s Music in the Park_

 

The St Mungo’s Music in the Park charity event was indeed the biggest fund raiser of the year.  It was held in a magically occluded part of Hyde Park right under the noses of the oblivious Muggles.  Everyone who was anyone had tickets to the concert and, of course, tickets to the Ball to be held in the evening were the most coveted prizes of the social calendar.  Security was very tight as witches and wizards from all walks of life mingled shoulder to shoulder in outlandish costumes and bizarre hats.  Those who could afford the outrageous prices were seated in the enclosure and guaranteed to meet the artists, the visitors coming from all over Europe.  Those who could not afford exclusive tickets were seated on the grass outside, many in family groups on blankets with picnics and bottled drinks for the outing.

Looking around, Severus sighed when he realised the Malfoys had at least dressed him up with taste.  Some of the things people were wearing were positively obscene, utterly ridiculous or just plainly in bad taste.  Marta Goyle had somehow forced her one hundred and ninety pound body into a gold lame jumpsuit which was cut so low she sort of boiled out the top of it.  He wondered if poor Narcissa was going to be smothered when the woman grabbed her and hugged her with ritualistic kisses on both cheeks.  When she turned in his direction, he simply crossed his arms over his chest, flared his nostrils and dared her to try it!  She wisely did not.

“Severus, will you please relax and mingle,” Narcissa hissed out the side of her mouth as she snagged a couple of champagne flutes from a passing tray and handed one over.  “At least the wine is decent over here in the member’s section.  Oh God, is that Adamantia Weasley over there?  Have you ever seen anything so strange as that outfit she is wearing?  What is she supposed to be?”

“She’s a beefeater, darling, a Muggle treasure guard or something,” Lucielle Crabbe murmured, coming up behind them.  “Don’t you both look splendid, very well done.”

“Thank you, Lucielle, and you look very chic too, Paris?”

“Coco Chanel, a rather nice Muggle designer, don’t you think?  Severus, I thought you were locked in your dungeons forever, I never expected to see you here, of all places, or so much of you.”

“I would have been but…”

“Lucius and I insisted he needed some fresh air.  After all, he is still a growing boy, you know?” Narcissa smirked, looking up at the young man who towered over her.  He glared back and polished off his glass of champagne, wishing it was a decent Firewhisky.  It was going to be a very long day!

“Is that you, Severus?” a curious voice asked and a flash of vivid scarlet made Severus turn and look down.  “It is you, how are you these days?” Lily Evans squealed in delight and flung her arms around the tall man who shook his head and forcibly removed her from his person.

“Damn it, Lily, I wish you wouldn’t do that!  You are old enough to have outgrown such childishness,” he scolded holding her off at arm’s length.  “Oh well, at least you look fairly presentable, if not stylish,” he conceded, smirking at her costume.

Lily shook her head and grinned at him, bursting into laughter at the end of his speech.  “You know, it is good to see you again, even if your temperament hasn’t grown any sweeter over the last year.”

“Still a pompous prat, Snivellus,” another voice muttered grimly, and Potter wrapped both arms around Lily dragging her back against his chest.  “I thought you were in Azkaban or somewhere, for poisoning people.”

“You should be so lucky, Potter,” Severus muttered, staring down his nose at the man who had always been the bane of his existence.  “No, the last lot I dosed, ended up getting better, can’t think why.  Perhaps it was because I am making the potions for St Mungo’s these days.”  He pondered the sky for a moment.  “That could be it, I suppose.  And what do you do with yourself these days?  Still play Quidditch or some other party tricks?  Cute outfit, by the way, didn’t have time to change after the game?”

Potter ground his teeth while the small audience they had gathered laughed.  Potter was wearing Quidditch robes which were authentically stained with mud at the hems, his hair disarranged, or perhaps simply in its natural state.  “At least it’s a costume, not a statement.  Where is your coffin?” he growled.

“The same place you keep your pet murderer,” Severus hissed, fingering his left arm where his wand was held in a sheath.

Potter snarled and stepped back, his hand also going for his wand pocket.

Lily shook her head and stepped between the two of them.  “Enough!  Both of you are as bad as each other!  This is so like old times, it is pitiful.  I’m glad you went to Potions College as you wanted to, Severus…”

“How do you know he’s at Potions College, he never said he was,” Potter snapped.

“They don’t let amateurs make potions for St Mungo’s,” Lily told him, rolling her eyes.  “Come on, you; let’s find our seats before you alienate anyone else.  See you later, Severus.”  She smiled, dragging Potter off.

“Not if you are still with him, you won’t,” Severus called just loud enough for Potter to hear him and turn furiously.

“Stay away from my wife, Snape, if you know what’s good for you,” he snarled furiously.

“Is he serious?”  Narcissa asked incredulously as the couple disappeared into the crowd.

“Ah, yes, that was the infamous - and oblivious – Mr Potter,” Severus murmured in her ear.  “Lily was always the champion of the underdog at school, and that would have been me.  She is a nice enough girl and a good friend at times, but Potter never seemed to understand that she was my friend and no more than that.  So why let a good antagonist down?”  He smirked and Narcissa chuckled as they too sought their seats as the orchestra tuned up.

 

oo0oo

 

The whole thing was just as bad as Severus expected it would be, completely stultifying.  Oh, the calibre of the musicians was enormously high, the soprano a world famous diva.  The conductor had a list of credits as long as his arm and even the children from the local ballet school who did some sort of little dance thing were reasonably good.  All the same, the afternoon was warm and the bees close at hand were droning on or perhaps it was the wizard three rows forward snoring loudly.

At interval there was more mingling, the artists and musicians signing programs and generally glad handing the champagne sipping patrons while a fence away, families sat on blankets on the grass and enjoyed a picnic lunch.  Couples strolled hand in hand and children played chasing across the grass.  It was all very bucolic and Sunday Afternoonish, so much so that Severus could not help wondering when the _Incendio_ Spell would detonate over them all.

His uneasiness was translated into fidgets that made Narcissa poke him in the side on a number of occasions.  The witch on his left was equally disgusted, harrumphing angrily when he flinched again, glancing around quickly.

“For Merlin’s Sake, Severus, will you sit _still_?” Narcissa finally hissed, half pulling her wand.

Severus covered her hand to stop her doing it, a slight frown pulling his eyebrows down over his nose.  “It’s too quiet, the calm before the storm.  Something very bad is going to happen, but I really don’t know what,” he muttered out the side of his mouth as he clapped politely with the rest of the audience.  “As soon as the concert closes, we have to leave; straight over to that old oak tree and Apparate out, do you understand me?”

Narrowing her eyes, Narcissa shook off his restraint and slid her wand away with a snap.  “No.  As soon as the concert is over, we go and mingle with the audience, pick up some gossip, talk to the board of governors and generally make agreeable noises.  After perhaps an hour, then we Apparate home and get ready for the Ball this evening.  That is the agenda we will be following, not bolting like startled rabbits as soon as we can.  I am a Malfoy of Malfoy Manor and no one - not even you – will change that!”

“I promised Lucius I would look after you…” he began, but Narcissa turned up her nose and the witch on his left shushed him loudly.

“You are beginning to bore me, now go away and leave me alone or sit still and shut up, do you understand?”  Narcissa reiterated with slitted eyes then turned firmly to face the stage, turning her shoulder to his glower.

Severus subsided into a sullen silence, his arms crossed defensively across his chest.  He sat perfectly still as told but his mind raced, his eyes darting about, taking in all the people, trying to see what had made him so uneasy.  A couple of members of the orchestra were freaked out by his glare, earning a second glare from the conductor, but in all Severus stayed as still as possible, trying to make himself invisible.  He partially succeeded, making Narcissa do a double-take then grope around until her hand landed on his thigh and she left it there to make sure he stayed still.  Severus pushed it off and she put it back until they realised they were being very silly.  The witch next to Narcissa also told them to behave themselves in no uncertain terms.

Humphing in disgust, Severus returned to his conjuring of his personal state of ‘unnoticability’ until the last song was sung by a full bodied contralto who belted out the aria from a popular opera.  Everyone in the enclosure clapped politely, those outside rose and chattering loudly, gathered their families and goods and Apparated out.  Severus thought he saw Lily’s red hair disappearing, but he might have been mistaken.

The witch on his left suddenly turned to him and slapped his arm hard.  “You are a rude and bumptious young man, do you hear?  I have never been as disgusted in my life as I was with your behaviour!  You should be ashamed of yourself.  I would suggest that, next time you come to a charity function, you choose clothing that allows you to sit in comfort rather than subject your neighbours to your fits and starts.  Tight pants may draw the girls’ attention but fidgets do not endear you to your neighbours!”  Sticking her nose in the air, she stormed off leaving Severus glaring after her and Narcissa creased in two with laughter.

 

oo0oo

_Attack_

 

The crowd swirled around the enclosure, Severus recognising people from school, even the Dean of Herbology as he followed Narcissa around.  She flitted from group to group, giggling, laughing and gossiping, flirting a little and simply cosying up to all types of people, deliberately drawing out their visit as long as possible in spite of his wish to leave as soon as possible.  His uneasiness was subsiding a little as the crowd thinned, but still Narcissa hung around, glad-handing all and sundry.  A voice hailed him and he turned to half smile at the rotund man who was beaming up at him.

“Mr Wittingham,” Severus acknowledged the man with a small bow and a tight smile.  “How are you today?”

“Oh, well, very well, indeed.  Did you enjoy the concert?  Wasn’t the dance of the ten fairies just perfect?  Of course, my granddaughter was the third fairy from the left so I have to admit to a tiny bit of prejudice.”  He chuckled massively, drawing Narcissa’s attention to himself.

“Severus, will you introduce us?” she asked with a meaningful glance.

“Oh, yes, this is Narcissa Malfoy.  This is Director Jelico Wittingham, head of the potions department of St Mungo’s.  I make special order potions for him when I am locked in the dungeons,” Severus added with a malicious grin.

“Ah, so you are responsible for encouraging him to hide himself away,” Narcissa teased laughingly, offering her hand.

The rotund man bowed over it and kissed it in the grand style making Narcissa blush and simper.  He smiled, a wide friendly expression that suddenly became frozen, his grip on Narcissa’s hand tight enough to break bones.  Before she could make protest a gush of blood erupted from his mouth and soaked their clasped hands.  Narcissa screamed as the man began to crumple, Severus grabbing her by the hand and dragging her aside as he fell.  A green curse slashing through the space her body had occupied a second before.

Noise impinged; screams and bellows of shock and fear, yells of outrage and quickly snapped spells.  Of the thirty or forty people left in the area, half were injured, some bodies lying motionless on the ground.  Black cloaked, white masked figures were appearing out of thin air, Apparating in and slinging hexes without really aiming until they managed to orientate themselves.  Severus ground his teeth as he was forced to fire back, a simple _Stupefy_ spell taking out the nearest attackers.  Aiming carefully, he cleared a path away from the main concentration of the battle, dragging Narcissa after him like a lump of unwieldy baggage.

“They’re Death Eaters!  They’re hexing _us_!” Narcissa gasped in shock, unable to believe it.

“They are attacking anyone who moves, will you hurry up!” Severus snapped, still trying to get her safely to an open area, or at least somewhere they could Apparate without obstruction.

They had just reached the edge of the clearing when Narcissa let out a shriek, clutching her arm in pain.  “I’m hit,” she squeaked in disbelief, Severus spinning her around and examining the torn leather and wool, and flesh underneath.

“You’re lucky, it’s barely nicked you,” he pronounced, pulling her closer and nodding.  He was about to Apparate when he felt the drag and stopped, staring down at her, meeting her shocked gaze with an equally shocked look of his own.  “What happened?”

“I can’t Apparate,” she gasped in panic.  “Severus, I can’t Apparate!”

“Grab my arm, we’ll side-along,” he ordered quickly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and gathering his resources, but she felt like a solid rock firmly fixed in the earth for ages.  “Well, that’s fucked it,” he commented grimly.  “We’ll have to run for it, that way.”  He pointed to the left and began to run, dragging her along behind him again.

They had almost made it to the trees when a black robed figure Apparated directly into their path, wand at the ready.  Severus skidded to a halt, pulling Narcissa in behind him as he faced off, wand held at low guard.

“Get out of the way, you idiot!  I don’t want to hurt you but I need to get my charge away,” he said evenly, his wand never wavering as the black robe began to circle them.

“You are a disgrace to the blood, Muggle lovers both!  Look at you, dressed like them, mimicking them.  How dare you call yourself a wizard?” the man shrieked, his wand vibrating to the beat of his anger.

“It is a costume, you stupid prat!  They are just costumes for a dumb charity concert.”

“That’s what you tell me now when I have caught you to rights!  You are dead and I’ll use your bitch until she is begging for death!”  He giggled insanely as he drew back his wand.

Severus murmured, ’ _Confringo viscera_ ,’ with a flick of his wrist and the black robes shredded as the internal organs exploded.  “Let’s go,” he yelled as Narcissa began hyperventilating.  “Narcy, we don’t have time for this; hold it until we are safe.  Oh fuck, they’re following us, run!”

They ran, Severus blasting bolts behind him to discourage the pursuers.  He did not notice as they left the hidden areas and burst through into the Muggle part of Hyde Park.  Muggles turned and stared as the couple burst out of the bushes, running as fast as they could.  Parents began grabbing their children out of the away as the black robed figures burst out of the trees, shooting at the couple.  The tall man blasted back over his shoulder, still pulling the woman along behind him as he tried to escape his pursuers.

As more of the black robes burst out of the trees they realised they were amongst Muggles and began blasting indiscriminately, maniacal giggles bursting from some of the attackers.  Severus thanked his lucky stars as they fled but was disappointed that the rest of the followers had not broken off the attack.  He almost screamed in fury when a stray hex hit Narcissa again, making her stumble and fall.  Swooping down, he slung her over his shoulder as he continued to run at the best pace he could.  A square sturdy building came into view and he headed for it as he had no chance of Disapparating or outrunning them.

Narcissa began to rouse as he shoved her into the narrow doorway, forcing her to stumble under her own power further into the interior.  “What are you doing, Severus?” she gasped, clinging to the wall.

“Just what I said I would.  I promised Lucius I would protect you with my life, and I will.  Now get in there, I am about to cast protection over the building!” he snarled, giving her a push which sent her stumbling through the door that slammed shut after her.

 

oo0oo

_Defence_

 

Scrubbing his hands through his hair, Severus bit his lip then allowed himself one long shiver before he took stock of their situation.  The small red brick building was sturdy enough, the roof only gently sloping.  Taking a chance, he cast _levo_ and stood on the low peak, balancing easily.  He seriously wished he was wearing his robes with all the potions he kept secreted in the hidden pockets, but he wasn’t.  All he had was a few incendiaries, flash vials and some extending potions.  Shaking his head in disgust, he crouched down and used his wand to draw sigils of protection on the roof of the building.  Racing around the perimeter, he pointed to the ground and quickly drew more sigils on the grass below, burning them into the earth for permanency.

The black-robed, white-masked Death Eaters had finished playing with or destroying the Muggles and had remembered they were chasing more important prey.  A group of them turned toward the small building but were brought up short by the spells and protections that lay on the ground.  The tall, black-clad man stood on the roof, wand drawn, daring them to come any closer.

“You and you, blast him off there!” the leader commanded, a double hex lashing out to be parried and burned by their opponent.  Two more hexes whipped through the space, but he ducked and jumped, sending back another blast in reply.  “He’s only one man, you fools, take him down, surround him, and blast him off there!”  The scream was hysterical as his people ran to obey his orders.

Severus had little choice; if they surrounded him, he would not be able to hold the building and he would fail in his promise.  Even though it was lightly given to Lucius, he had meant it and it was no less binding than a formally declared oath.  Why were Death Eaters - subjects of his Lord - attacking them so ferociously?  What was the point?  Did they really think he and Narcissa were Muggles or were they under the influence of a spell or a potion?  He was still trying to decide what to do when a hacking curse boomeranged past him and came at his back.  Falling flat on his face, he allowed it to pass over his head but banged his hand in the process, almost dropping his wand.  Gritting his teeth, he jumped to his feet in time to see two of the attackers swinging in behind the building.  There was no longer a choice; he had to act to protect his charge.

Pulling a miniaturised potion from an inner pocket, he cast _Engorgio_ as he banished it in the direction of the two men behind the building.  The tiny bottle grew larger and as it shattered on the ground, the contents were exposed to the air.  The mix was explosive, blowing shards of rock and glass outward in a wide circle that took out the two men, cutting one to shreds and removing the other’s legs at the knees.  Shrieking, the injured man could not Apparate, his companion laying ominously still.

“Go away; let that be a warning to leave us alone.  We have done you no harm until now, but if you persist in trying to take my charge, I will be forced to destroy you all, do you understand?” Severus roared, a tide of bitter anger welling up in his soul.

“You are a dead man, do _you_ understand?  You have killed Stan and injured Raoul, we’re going to take you down and quarter you, you bastard, and that bitch will die in screams too, once we get our hands on her.”

“Over my dead body,” Severus snapped.

“That’s the plan, Kid,” the man laughed, casting _Confundus_ in his direction.

Severus dispelled it with a casual wave and sent _Semparis_ back along the path, making the spokesman dodge and duck behind a bench.  Using his wand as a sprayer, Severus sent a blanket of acid over the ground in a rolling fog.  The first man felt the subtle burn and roared a neutralising spell only to see a small vial arcing in his direction.  By the time he finished one spell, it was too late and he was dead, spread over a large area.  Three were down and five were left, but they had changed their tactics, attacking his protections on the building rather than him directly.  Severus could feel the wards slipping as he hurled another incendiary at their heads.  It disrupted their attack but did little else as they had chosen to stand further away than the last lot of idiots.

It was like a juggling act where the juggler had to keep the plates spinning and the jugs balanced while standing on a ball and spinning hoops.  There were too many elements for Severus to cope with all at once, too many things to think of, plan and execute.  He almost felt like crying as another hex hit him in the back of the head, trying to knock him off the wall or knock him out but instead it made him dizzy.  The protection destroying spell was tearing away at his sigils on the ground, already weakening them, and the thought of Lucius’ disappointment if he failed filled Severus with foreboding.  Suddenly, it was all too much and he threw back his head and screamed!

Something snapped in his mind, all conscious thought fleeing.  Standing outside himself, he watched as the body moved, smoothly, coordinated, flowing from action to action, never stopping.  The wand became a knife to open a small vein in the wrist; he took a mouthful of his own blood then sprayed it over the area, painting the roof in a fine mist even as he pitched the last of the incendiaries with pinpoint accuracy into the huddle by the far playground equipment.  He spoke incantations and drew on Elder Magic, not related to the wand he used with devastating accuracy to pick off the leader of the group from over three hundred yards.

The last of the enemy fled, running for his life as a rolling ball of blood magic lashed out and engulfed him, lifting him high then vanishing so that he fell a hundred feet and landed half on, half off the see-saw.  It was a messy death.  But there was no time to rejoice, there were wards to feed and enemies to watch for, the Snape sank into a crouch on the roof’s pinnacle and waited, scanning, watching, watching.

 

oo0oo

_Stand-off_

 

The first Aurors on the scene could hardly believe the damage.  There were at least twenty people dead and far more injured, most of them Muggles who did not realise what had happened to them.  They had received a hysterical call from a society matron to say the St Mungo’s charity concert was under attack from Death Eaters and there were bodies everywhere.  Since the hysteria usually meant there was an accident not an attack by Death Eaters – and no _Mors Mordre_ had been cast – the chief had only sent newly graduated constables to investigate, expecting them to have no trouble curbing the problem.

Frank and Alice Longbottom stared around with dropped jaws at the mayhem.  There was blood everywhere; people with limbs cut off, slashed cuts and the dead strewn all over the place.  Alice began to treat the wounded as Frank contacted headquarters and asked for assistance as there was a real situation and they needed help.  Kingsley Shacklebolt shook his head as he turned over the first Death Eater-robed body and flicked the mask away with the tip of his wand.  The man appeared to be of Latino origin, a slashing curse having almost severed his head from his shoulders.  The next victim was a Muggle, conscious and moaning miserably, clutching at his middle where his intestines were poking out of a deep laceration.  

“What happened?” Kingsley asked gently as he began a spell to ease the pain and hopefully keep the man alive until the St Mungo’s emergency teams got there.

“The terrorists, they were chasing a young couple and both were firing at each other, odd guns, but the couple ran off that way, the terrorists saw us all trying to get away and began firing into the crowd indiscriminately.  Can you see my wife anywhere?  She was here a moment ago.”

Kingsley shook his head slowly, not mentioning that the woman nearest to him was cut in two at the waist.  She had obviously taken the brunt of the cutting hex as it slashed though the crowd and inadvertently saved her husband’s life.  “You say they were chasing a couple?  Which way did they go?”

“Follow the blood trails, you won’t miss them!”

He was right; a path of destruction lay open to the right, razed spots, twisted trees and smoking craters testifying to the ferocity of the running battle.  Whoever the ‘young couple’ were, they were in dire straits if the levels of magic were any indication.  Shacklebolt began to follow the trail but was called back by his immediate superior.

Hestia Jones arrived on the scene with more senior Aurors at Frank’s call and was quick to disperse her people around the area, guarding the St Mungo’s personnel who were beginning to arrive.  Unspeakables moved amongst the Muggles, changing their reality, making it a terrorist attack, making wands into guns and curses into bombs, knives or other means of maiming and destroying human flesh.  She grabbed Frank by the back of the robes, dragging him back when he made to run off up the track.  Shaking her head, she designated Rufus Scrimgeour to lead the party with three others as backup.

The Aurors approached the small Muggle building very cautiously, wands at the ready.  Muggles did not decorate their toilet blocks with gargoyles and there was definitely something crouched on the roof peak that was not entirely human.  The creature perched on the roof watched their approach, his head moving slowly to follow the cautious circle Scrimgeour made as he moved from corpse to corpse to bloody smear.  It made no move until Rufus bent to touch the ward burned into the turf around the building, then it pointed and the ward flared blindingly bright, tossing Scrimgeour back on his arse.  Three wands spat hexes but they simply bounced off the wards which flared even brighter to repel the attack.

Scrimgeour picked himself up and waved his people back, the building wards slowly subsiding to show the figure on the roof crouched low, wand held engard, eyes trained predator-like on the Aurors.  Very carefully, Scrimgeour raised his off-wand hand and signalled his people to move back slowly.  As they moved back, the guardian settled back to his crouched position, wand held carefully but not aggressively.

“Is it human?” Hestia asked quietly, making Scrimgeour jump.

“Damn it, Hestia, you scared me,” he muttered angrily.  “What do you make of that?”  He pointed his chin upward.

“If it wasn’t daylight I’d say we had a rogue vampire, but no vampire stays out in this level of sunshine willingly or without smoking a bit,” Hestia mused, studying the situation carefully.  “There is no aggression unless we make the first move.  He’s just squatting there, guarding something.”

“That magic is not human, I’ll tell you now, but it’s not entirely Vampire either.  Do we have a vampire speaker?” one of the Aurors murmured, moving to the far left of the group.  The head turned, following his progress until another Auror moved out to the right then he half rose until Hestia waved them back with an impatient gesture.

“Whether human or vampire, it’s definitely on guard.  Get me an interpreter as fast as you can.”

 

oo0oo

_Rescue_

 

The words were seductive, the language full of long consonants and rolling vowels.  They were asking him who he was and what he was doing?  He mused on that question for a few moments before raising his head and replying in the same language, rusty in speaking it but managing the accents perfectly.

“He says he is guarding the treasure belonging to his, not sure if he said master, lover or brother, something like that.  The words are very similar and his accent is pure which makes it a little obscure as it is a guarded language and we only get to talk to lower class speakers.  You will also notice he is injured, quite a number of cuts and open dripping wounds.  Every drop of blood that hits the roof feeds a little more of his strength into the wards.”

“So he’ll collapse soon?”

“No, not if he is a pure-blood, then he will not fall.  If he is a half-blood or common he won’t fall for days, perhaps even weeks.  They are horribly resilient,” Professor Manargay of the Wizarding University of London commented happily.

“So how do we get him down?  He’s blown up or killed perhaps seven Death Eaters all on his own.  We aren’t sure if we should arrest him or give him a Merlin.”  Hestia snorted cheerfully.  “Oh Goodness, is that Professor Dumbledore?  What’s he doing here?”

“You did call for experts on vampires and blood magic, you know,” Professor Manargay muttered gloomily, managing to paste a fairly welcoming smile on his face as the headmaster of Hogwarts approached carefully, realising he was not the subject of the watcher’s attention.  

Albus Dumbledore paused for a moment to assess the situation he had been called to.  The person on the roof was obviously not giving up his position easily then his eyebrows rose and he smiled, his eyes twinkling madly as he wandered over to the edge of the wards.

“Severus, my dear boy, whatever are you doing on that roof?  And you have hurt yourself?  Goodness me, come down here at once and let me look at that cut, it may get infected!” he called cheerfully in the language of choice, disregarding the warnings from the Aurors.

The guardian hissed at him, all teeth exposed, wand focussed fully on the headmaster.  He spat a few sentences in the language of the Families, the headmaster shaking his head sadly.  The Aurors moved uneasily as the two argued back and forward, Professor Manargay trying his best to follow the conversation or argument or interaction.  Everyone flinched when the creature rose to his full height and casually stepped off the roof, landing without a stumble before the professor, dwarfing him.  Dumbledore smiled sympathetically and gestured to the tears in the back of his jacket, ugly, raw wounds showing through, his hair matted and saturated with dried blood.

“The Aurors are here, Severus, they will guard what you are looking after, they will care for your charge so you can rest and be healed,” Dumbledore said persuasively.

“No, it is my responsibility, I said I would look after her with my life, I gave my word,” he snapped in English, turning away and stepping toward the building again.

Alastor Moody stepped forward to stop the rather young man from leaving when a large black private carriage pulled up, everyone freezing as the Under-Minister himself stepped out.  He turned and leaned back into the car, obviously helping a fellow passenger alight.  For a second, Severus’ face lightened and he stopped, not moving as the man straightened, still holding the Minister’s arm.  With a cautious step, he left the Minister and made his way slowly toward the protected building.

The tableau remained frozen until the old man was face to face with Severus, almost shoulder to shoulder with Albus who moved aside, almost deferentially.  Reaching out a hand, Abraxas Malfoy cupped one thin, sallow cheek, a slightly desperate look in his eyes.

“Is she --”

“As I promised, she is safe,” Severus murmured, a hand curling over the old man’s and pressing it to his cheek affectionately for a moment then he turned as fast as a snake, throwing both hands up and shouting aloud.

There was a blast of light and wind and heat as the wards exploded, showering them all with bloody mist.  Even as Severus’ knees buckled, there was a movement at the doorway of the building, the Aurors’ wands snapping up hastily.

A blonde head peered around the doorpost, a dishevelled, bloody blonde in a ragged sleeved jacket.  She tried to pull herself together when she saw all the people, but the sight of Abraxas crumbled her resolve and she ran to him, flinging her arms around him with a sob of delayed panic.  “Oh Gods, it was awful!  They were chasing us and blasting us with curses and the people were dying, and I couldn’t Apparate and Severus kept pulling me along and making me run.  Oh Gods, Severo, are you alright?  I thought they’d killed you!  Then we were all going to die!”

“Madame Malfoy, isn’t it?” Hestia asked, drawing closer.  “Can you tell us what happened?  Who was chasing you?  Who was trying to curse you?”

“The stupid Death Eaters, of course, surely they knew better!  How dare they do something so, so inconsiderate!” Narcissa screeched, stamping her foot.

“Do you think they were targeting you personally?” Hestia persisted, even though the Minister was trying to hush her.

“Of course they were, they ruined my jacket and they called Severus and me Muggle-lovers just because we were wearing costumes.  Gods, if Severo was not so bloody minded, we would all have died, all of us?”

“Who is ‘all of us’, more of your money sucking pure-blood aristocracy?” Alastor Moody demanded angrily, glaring at the girl who still clung to the old man’s arm.  “Or that stinking vampire who was casting blood magic all over the building?”

Narcissa snapped upright, her back straightening abruptly in the face of such criticism.  “How dare you, you horrid little man!  I’ll have you know Severus saved all our lives and if he used blood magic then so what?  He has the right and the heritage and if he had to use it to defeat a dozen Death Eaters then he is doing better than you, is he not?”

“If he wasn’t in league with them --” Moody snapped then stumbled backward in shock.

Narcissa Malfoy, Lady of the first water, pure-blood princess of the Black line, hauled off and punched him fairly on the nose with a neat right hook!  Before anyone else could react, there was a mutter of surprise from the watching Aurors and what sounded like a baby crying.  All turned to the doorway, jaws dropping as a woman emerged from the toilet block two children clutched to her chest.  Another three women and eight children followed, obviously Muggles and obviously terrified.  Narcissa pulled herself together and hurried over, touching and cooing reassuringly.

“See, I told you we would be safe with Severus in charge and look, here are the Aurors to make sure we are all safe and well.”  She turned to the woman Auror who seemed to be in charge of the party.  “Madam Auror, meet the rest of the people Severus was guarding.  They were caught up in the raid and will need… something, I’m not sure what.”  She and Hestia exchanged measured glances before Hestia nodded reassuringly, waving her people in.

“Go and get a healer, Frank.  Moody, leave Severus alone and come take some statements.  Oh, Frank!  Bring a couple of, er, debriefers, with you if you don’t mind,” she added, Longbottom translating ‘debriefers’ as Unspeakables.

“Well, this is all very touching; Snape, the great Muggle defender,” Moody grunted as he reluctantly did as he was told.  “Don’t worry, Snape, your turn will come, then we’ll see how much resistance to _Veritaserum_ you really have,” he grunted in disgust.

Severus glared but he knew it was a poor effort, the warding and protection having taken a great deal out of him.  He knew Dumbledore was quietly and systematically healing his wounds, but he had lost a lot of blood and all he really wanted to do was go to sleep, preferably somewhere quiet and cool.  He glanced over at Abraxas who was leaning on a cane, surprised to see two of him moving in and out of focus.  Before he could comment on the phenomena, the world went away.

 

oo0oo

_Consequently_

 

“So, you are back with us, are you?”  The voice was soft and gently, the hands that helped him sit up strong but considerate.

Severus groaned, holding his head as it spun uncoordinatedly on his shoulders, but he managed to sip the potion that was held up to his lips.  “Sage, lemon, essence of murlap, aloe vera, common peppermint and pennyroyal.  That’s horrible,” he mumbled, swallowing some more at his attendant’s urgings.

“You are lucky it will be the only one you will taste, you were not awake for the other potions which, I guarantee, were extremely foul.”  The attendant laughed softly, easing him back against the pillows.

Severus blinked in the dim light then gasped a little.  “My Lord, what are you doing attending me?” he asked in embarrassment.

“Hush, my Severus, I volunteered,” he was assured as the Lord smoothed the sheet over his chest.  “I must apologise for my Death Eaters’ zeal yesterday, they were fools and deserved what happened.”  The Lord hung his head, following the pattern in the jacquard silk with a fingernail.  “Every great campaign attracts zealots and fools.  Unfortunately, the people who attacked you were both, a deadly combination.  I promise you, Severus, I did not give permission for that raid, it was purely conceived and executed at a very low level.  One of my minor branch lieutenants thought to make some points by attacking and ‘weeding out Muggle sympathisers’.  His intentions were good but his fanaticism blinded him to the reality of the situation.  A costume does not make a sympathiser.”

“You don’t need to explain to me, my Lord, really,” Severus muttered, watching his hand move intently.

“Ah, but I do, my Severus, after all, you have appointed yourself my conscience, have you not?” the Lord asked playfully.  “Now, my dear one, I want you to sleep again, secure in the knowledge that you are safe, Narcissa is safe and Abraxas is well too.  Sleep now and we will speak again tomorrow.”

Severus slept.

 


	9. Chapter 9: Dilemma

09 - Dilemma

 

 

Severus woke with a start, sweat rolling off him.  He was on his feet, wand clutched convulsively in his hands as he stared around the dim coolness of his own room.  Gasping and panting, he sank back down onto the bed and cupped his head in his hands.  It was just a dream, another horrible, horrible dream!  Thank Merlin Lucius was not around just now or he would have been annoyed to be woken up and curious to know what could terrify Severus out of sleep.

Dreams, nightmares, had been haunting him ever since the incident in the park the week before, images of blood and gore, of children dismembered and worse.  Of a strangled woman whose belly still kicked and jerked with her unborn child who was slowly suffocating too.  He no longer knew what was real and what was imagined, but it haunted him, taunted him and made him wonder.

It had taken him three days to recover from the terrible expenditure of magical energy he had output to protect Narcissa and inadvertently the Muggles.  Not that he regretted it, but there had been some odd looks and even odder owls from people on both sides of the Muggle debate fence.  Some howlers had accused him of betraying his own people and of deliberately setting out to kill fighters for the greater truth.  Others had lambasted him for killing Muggles although he was reasonably sure he had not.  Praise and damnation came in equal helpings for the stupid photo on the front page of the Daily Prophet.  He looked like a refugee from a crypt surrounded by Aurors and powerful wizards staring at the huddle of Muggle women and children with a blank look.  The story was an equal mix of praise and damnation with him figuring as a cold blooded murder in one paragraph and a saviour of innocents in the next, friend of power then haunted refugee.  The only thing the damned article had not said was the truth.  Severus Snape did not give a shit about Muggles or power or murder, he just wanted to keep his word to a friend.

Flopping back onto his bed, he pulled the duvet over his head and tried to sleep again, but a conversation he had had with Lord Voldemort two days earlier still echoed in his head.  They had been sitting in the study at Woolingham where the Lord was staying while visiting England this time.  The Crabbes knew better than to disturb their prestigious guest when he was entertaining privately so there were no distractions, only the Firewhisky, the chess board and the conversation.

“Wizards are a minority group, a powerful minority to be sure but still a minority.  Like any group some are more powerful than others, the elite and the commoners.  The elite are well bred, powerful and well educated, capable of making decisions and carrying them through rationally and completely -- born leaders.  The common herd tend to act as just that, a herd, or a flock, to be guided and warded against outside dangers and indeed from internal dangers.”

“Such as?” Severus asked, moving a pawn thoughtfully.

“Such as forgetting they are a minority and thinking it is safe to reveal themselves to the envious and overwhelmingly numerous majorities.  Of thinking that because they are more powerful on a one-to-one ratio that they can conquer the world.  We can’t!  Even the humble bumblebee will bring down a human, if there are enough of them and if the human is vulnerable.”

“But surely it is counterproductive to slaughter bystanders at a concert; it merely causes resentment in both the wizarding and the Muggle communities.”

“Yes, I know that!” the Lord snapped, then sighed.  “Liken that incident to a stampede; people get trampled whether they are good, bad or indifferent.  Those who are stampeded are not to blame; those who get trampled are not to blame but those who caused the stampede…; well, that is a different matter all together.  As little as I like to acknowledge it, there are certain splinter groups out there who are, shall we say, stealing our uniform and our ideas for their own ends.”

Severus bowed his head in thought as the Lord made his move, queen’s knight to bishop four, an odd move unless…  Sitting back, Severus studied the board more carefully, seeing the attack for the feint it actually was and harrumphing in disgust, even as his Lord grinned in genuine amusement.  “You distracted me,” he grumbled as he tried to see away to save the unsalvageable situation.  “I concede there is no way to break the trap.”  He toppled his king and shook his head.

“Let that be a lesson to you, young Severus.  You are clever and observant but sometimes it is not enough.  Sometimes you need to be cunning and ruthless to achieve your ends.  You may rest assured that the person who caused the stampede has been dealt with very thoroughly and will not try to corrupt our plans again.”

He had taken a lesson from that little speech, probably not the lesson the Lord wanted him to learn, but still, it was profound.  Not even the greatest Dark Wizard in half a century was infallible; he made mistakes and didn’t control every aspect of his followers’ thinking.  He was a great man, but just a man when all was said and done.  Such a small thing but so disturbing, it literally made Severus sick to his stomach to think on it.  If the Lord was not infallible and if he was capable of making a mistake, then how deep did his lack of control go?  Was he indeed the ultimate authority on Wizard to Muggle relations and how they should be conducted or was even his basic philosophy flawed by his humanity?

Still shuddering in the aftermath of his dreams, Severus took a shower, willing the hot water to wash away his doubts and fears.  The trouble was there was no one to share them with, no one he could confide in, or was there?  Dressing hurriedly, he scribbled a note and dashed up to the owlery, grabbing the nearest barn owl and giving it instructions to hurry.

 

oo0oo

 

The internal debate was endless: it could be a trap, it probably was a trap but if it was a trap then why was it so pathetically simplistic.  Traps were usually a lot more complex than a note from a known opponent asking for a meeting in a pub in the wilds of the Cotswolds.  But who could he ask, who did he dare ask for help in deciding, and that was the trap too, there was no one to confide in, no one to discuss the shocking note with, except perhaps…  Which was why he was sitting here, waiting.

“Hi, have you been waiting long?  I am sorry but I couldn’t dump James and you said you wanted a very private word.”

“I’m sorry, Lily, perhaps I should have just…  Do you want some tea?  It’s freshly made.  They do a really good shortbread here too, if you like.  Do you want lemon or milk; I can get lemon if you prefer.”

She giggled and grasped his arm, pulling him back down into his seat.  “Enough procrastinating, just ask me what you wanted to.”

He giggled self-consciously and scrubbed his face.  “Sorry, it’s sort of close, you know and… anyway, look, I had a note from an old, well, friend would be pushing it a little too far, acquaintance really.  He wants me to meet him in the Cotswolds and… well, I don’t know what… talk, I suppose.”

Lily frowned.  “He’s not an old flame, is he?”

“Merlin no!  Did you think…?  No, never that, he really is an old school acquaintance but we were never as close as we could have been, circumstances, you know…”

“You are meeting Severus Snape at an unknown location somewhere in the Cotswolds, aren’t you?  Are you crazy?  He hangs around with the Malfoys and it is rumoured he is one of the Death Eaters, despite that story in the Daily Prophet last week.  Gods, did you see him?  He looked terrible!”

“I know, utterly exhausted and a bit frightened, really.  It’s the angle of the sneer and the eyebrow that give a difference to his expressions, you know?”

“No, I didn’t know and I wonder how you do.  Did you study him that closely?  Are we admitting to a little bit of a crush, my shy and understated friend?” she teased and laughed delightedly as he blushed vividly.  “Never mind, I won’t tell Sirius.  Do you think he might harm you if you do go to the meeting?”

“No, I… I think he genuinely wants to talk to me but I don’t know about what.”

“Then you should go, but keep your wand ready at all times and if you aren’t back by dark then I will come looking for you, how is that?” she said flatly.

“Okay, good enough.”  He smiled, a touch of relief colouring his tone.  He would rather have Lily Potter on his side than against him any day!

 

oo0oo

 

Severus fidgeted, picking at a knot in the old table fitfully.  He felt like a fool for sending the note, bleating for a meeting to try and clear his conscience.  He was about to give it up and leave when a soft footstep warned him of a new presence, the scent of cinnamon and apples washing over him, soothing.  The two men stared at each other for a long minute, then Remus Lupin sat down opposite Severus Snape and put his elbows on the table to echo Severus’ position.

“You called,” Remus said softly, a humorous note in his tone.

Severus snorted.  “You want a drink?  They do fairly good brown ale here as well as scotch, you drink brown ale, don’t you?”

“Sometimes, when I am thirsty, sometimes I drink scotch, but this close to moon; I’m only allowed pumpkin juice or lemonade, nothing stronger.  The wolf doesn’t like it.”

“Moon?  Oh damn, sorry, I…  Bloody werewolves, not at all convenient,” Severus muttered and Remus laughed harshly.

“You think it’s convenient for me?  Sorry, Snape, it’s not, it’s bloody inconvenient but that’s life, isn’t it?  It doesn’t fit into little boxes just to suit your notions!  I’m going to get a drink!”

Severus nodded absently as the smaller man flounced off in a huff, returning a few minutes later with a large scotch and a pint of lemonade.  “That’s true, you know,” he said as soon as Lupin was seated again.

“What?”

“People, you can’t put them in boxes, you have to make allowances, no matter who they are, they are not going to be perfect, are they?  If they miss a few details then it is just the way of people, and you must compensate if you can, or go into damage control if you can’t.  If others take advantage of them and use their ideas to their own ends then it is not the principal’s fault, it is the unscrupulous behaviour of the offending party that is to blame.”

“Makes a twisted sort of sense, I suppose,” Lupin agreed, sipping the lemonade and watching fascinated as real expressions flitted across the usually blank canvas before him.  “Mind you, there is a matter of copyright infringement, especially in the Muggle world,” he added as a non-sequester just for fun.

“What?  What are you talking about, Lupin?  Stay on the subject.  People make mistakes, other people steal their ideas.  This is not the fault of the originator but of the thief, yes?”

“More or less, I suppose.  I would really love to know what you are talking about though.  I thought I didn’t make a lot of sense at moon but you are even worse.”  Lupin raised his glass in a mock toast that made Severus frown at him then smile crookedly.

“I like things black and white, people to be put in boxes and the path to be straight and narrow,” Severus complained with a trace of his own humour showing.  “We’re talking about expectations and how real people cannot actually live up to them, especially my unreal expectations of people.”

“Humm, no one is perfect, no matter how much they try.  Some are wonderful, but they have a few character quirks that are – jarring and not at all pleasant if you happen to run into them.”  Lupin sighed deeply, a sad look flitting over his rather thin and tired face.

“Or you expect them to be omniscient but in reality they are human, wonderful, intelligent, humorous and kind, cruel, manipulative, egotistical and sadistic, just as other, lesser mortals are.”

“Gods tend to magnify those human characteristics a thousand fold,” Lupin put in quietly, studying the thoughtful man intently.  “Godlings are worse, knowing they are not perfect, they hate to be seen to fail and will go to great lengths to hide their faults.  Sometimes the lengths they go to, to hide from their fears, are more terrible than the fears themselves.”

Severus’ eyes snapped open and he tried to cast _Legilimens_ on the werewolf, but Lupin’s mind was almost impenetrable, a snarling beast leashed tightly and held back by the barest thread of self control.  He almost threw himself backwards from the bench on which he sat, but then he realised Lupin had not moved or changed in any way.  “My Gods, Lupin, how do you stay sane with that, that _thing_ in your head?”

Lupin blinked a tiny crease of puzzlement pulling his brow before he smiled sadly.  “We all have our inner demons, Severus, even you, and how we deal with them is sometimes a measure of our manhood or perhaps our humanity.  I am a beast according to the Ministry, I am a werewolf not to be trusted, and at certain times that is true, but there are worse animals out there right now who go about on two legs and hide their inner beast only as long as it takes to be safe, allowing it to roam free at any opportunity they can seize or manufacture.  You know what I mean, you have your inner demon too, I saw your picture on the front page of the Daily Prophet.  It wasn’t all of you, it was a part of you that you control most of the time, but on occasion, such as dire necessity, you will use that demon to do what you have to.  You do not like to lose control and you wrest it back as soon as you can, but it is not the whole sum of ‘you’.  Do you understand what I mean?”

Severus stared at the small, nondescript blond with his sad face and his internal battle, amazed that he had never realised how strong the man was before.  Not physically strong, perhaps but mentally and emotionally.  He was putting so many of Severus’ own doubts and fears into words it was uncanny, almost terrifying and yet the sun still shone and the birds still sang in the trees.  No bolt of lightning shot down from the heavens and fried them where they sat.  “Is everyone like that?” he asked almost naively and Lupin smiled, shrugging.

“I suppose they are, or maybe it’s just us outsiders who can see more clearly than those who are very secure in their humanity.”

“I am human!”

“As am I, but there are those who persist trying to remove that humanity by any means they can, be it by legislation, prejudice or emotional torture.  The measure of a man is in his actions rather than his words.  It is easy to say something but it takes a lot more courage and commitment to live the action.”

“And if those actions are contradictory, some he treats thus and some he treats so, how do you judge then?” Severus demanded impatiently.

“Judge with your heart.  You know what is right and what is wrong and you must make decisions using your mind and intelligence, but in the last instance judge with your heart.”  Lupin polished off the last of his lemonade and smiled at his contemporary.  “So, why did you want to see me?  You did say you wanted to talk about something.”

“We just did, talk, I mean.  I have enjoyed our discussion and will ponder your advice.  Take care, Lupin, Greyback is up to something and if it is moon tonight then I think he will be in the region of Cumly Park.  He said something about getting some sweet, fresh meat.”

“Oh Merlin, Greyback only targets children!  Have you any idea of who?”  Lupin blanched spectacularly and rubbed his shoulder as if it pained him.

Severus paused, deep in thought then shrugged.  “The name Spiller seemed to make him very angry.  By the way, Lupin, if you ever get to meet Greyback, just kill him, he is a waste of space!” Severus said off-handedly, making Lupin bark a laugh.

“He is a real monster, inside and out and he makes absolutely no effort to control it in any way!  Now he is someone you can put in a box and mark black of the darkest hue.”

“Do I detect a little anger there, Lupin?  Not really happy with our esteemed Fenrir Greyback then?” Severus taunted and gasped as the small man flew at him, tossing him back against the wall behind him.

“I hate him with a passion you cannot plumb the depths of, Severus Snape, nor scale the heights of.  I will kill him one day, I promise you that!”  Lupin eased his hand from the taller man’s throat and pulled his robes straight, pushing his hair out of his eyes.  “Sorry about that, the leash is not so tight this close to moon and the wolf sometimes gets away from me.”

Severus snorted, rearranging his own clothes and hair.  “So I see.  Very well, Lupin, go home and lock yourself in for the night.  I will see you again, I suppose,” he said with a sniff as he walked away.

Lupin shook his head as he watched then stiffened as the other turned back, propping a hand on the gate.  “What?”

“I _will_ see you again, Lupin.  After all, I do owe you a drink.”  He Apparated with Lupin’s barking laughter ringing in his ear.

 

oo0oo

 

“Headmaster, thank you for seeing me so promptly,” Remus gasped, stepping out of the Floo and wringing his hands.  “Look, I have just had the most peculiar conversation and was told that Fenrir Greyback plans to attack in the village of Cumly Park this night.  My informant thinks it may be someone called Spiller who is targeted and that he is after sweet young meat which usually means a girl child.  I can’t stay too much longer, Headmaster, as moon is getting very close but please, see what you can do!”  The Floo flared again as the werewolf jumped back in and disappeared.

“Goodness gracious me!  Did he really mean that?” the second occupant of the study asked in shock.

“Oh yes, I maintain quite a circle of ears and eyes around the place.  If he thought the information was correct then it was indeed correct.  Excuse me while I call the Aurors and pass it on.”

“Oh Albus,” Hestia giggled and rose pulling her red robes straight.  “I’ll go and organise something immediately,” she assured him as she stepped into the Floo.

 

oo0oo

 

“Fenrir Greyback was badly hurt last night,” Lucius mentioned, reading a message from one of the numerous owls he received over the course of breakfast.  “Seems he went after that little Spiller titbit and found she was the bait in an Auror trap.”

“Serves him right for boasting and bragging,” Narcissa commented disinterestedly as she flicked through the Daily Prophet.  “Oh look, Madam Malkin has a fashion show planned for next month.”

“Narcissa, Narcissa!  When was Fenrir bragging about his plans?” Lucius insisted, dragging her attention away from the delights of the fashion pages.

“Oh, good grief, how should I know, at afternoon tea at the Dolohovs’ house, wasn’t it?  Yes, it must have been because Ruby was teasing him about getting married and settling down and he said not in this lifetime, too many tasty morsels to bite, especially those like the Spiller girl, ripe and ready for the picking.  Of course, you know Ruby Prewitt, always good at teasing little snippets of information out of people, she had him bragging and spilling the beans in moments, didn’t she, Severus?”

“Greyback’s mouth is always flapping over something, who listens to him?”  Severus muttered, deep in his magazine.  “Dragon’s blood is up; the farms aren’t releasing any just now, another outbreak of dragon pox it seems.  Is it my imagination or is dragon pox getting more common these last few years?”

“Do you actually have an imagination?” Narcissa enquired brightly, making him snarl at her until she burst into laughter and returned to her paper.

Lucius sighed and continued to read the serious news, ignoring his two juvenile minded mates who continued to take verbal swipes at each other over the breakfast table.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10: Ruminations

10 - Ruminations

 

 

Abraxas Malfoy lay in his great bed, pondering on his life and what he had accomplished.  He thought he had done rather well, all in all considered.  As a young man he had explored the darkest corners of the world, climbed in the Himalayas and studied the techniques of the Taoists in the old monasteries hidden away in the tiny folds of valleys that riddled the young mountains.  He had gone to the oldest land of all to study the kadaicha with the most unspoiled of the Aborigine peoples.  The Amazon and the Andes had given up their secrets and their treasures.  The raw materials from all the earth’s lands added to the coffers of Malfoy Enterprises.  He had found treasure in the Congo too, but no man’s luck held forever so he had also found the seeds of his doom which was now upon him.

He had tried to preserve the Family, tried to do everything he could to keep it safe and whole for Lucius, especially when his dear Leonora had died so unexpectedly after nothing more than a brush against a small tree.  How were any of them to know that it had been cursed or that the witch who had cursed it had a personal grudge against Leonora?  Before they could break the curse Leonora was dead and so was Gladys Sorensal, having set the curse in such a way that it was a Pyretic for Gladys, whether that was her intent or not.  With Leonora’s death, Abraxas knew he would have no more children as they might try to contest with Lucius for the position of Lord Malfoy and that would never do.

Lucius had grown up safe and secure, a little spoiled but then which pure-blood scion was not -- oh, except for Severus, of course.  Severus, now there was a dilemma in a nutshell!  Severus had been a very unexpected bobble on the smooth path of Malfoy affairs, bursting into his life in a shower of blood and deviant sex.  Abraxas had always known his son was completely amoral when it came to sexual relations, as was he himself, as long as the Family was served in the long run, what did it matter, but then he had dragged home Severus Snape, beaten, bloody and half dead.  Gods, the boy wasn’t even pretty, but he was impossible to overlook.

They’d argued a lot, him and Lucius, about the advisability of interfering in another Dynasty, but in the end, his Lord had taken the decision out of all their hands, expressing an interest in the boy by saving his life.  Severus had become part of the family, a silent and often shadowy addition but still there.  Occasionally, he showed flashes of a wicked sense of humour but not often enough to be trying.  The Dark Lord, who promised to bring stability and prosperity to the Magical world, had also taken a fancy to the boy, dropping in quite regularly to talk and play chess.  It was gratifying, to say the least, and they had all three grown closer together, Abraxas feeling as if he had a second son in his home, a well established, well mannered son who would never challenge Lucius and was therefore a safe person to like.  He brought prestige to the Malfoy name in an indirect way and almost guaranteed Lucius favour with the Dark Lord as he entertained and pleased the man.  Then this stupid Perryander’s disease had raised its ugly head.

Huffing angrily, Abraxas slapped his hands down on the coverlet and ground his teeth.  After all his care and patience, he was to be cut down before the world was secure for his little boy.  Suddenly sixty years was cut down to one, two at the most, and Abraxas had panicked stampeding Lucius into the marriage he and Leonora had arranged so long ago.  Neither child was ready for marriage, both far too young by normal wizarding standards, but it had to be.  Despite the loose ends and lack of maturity, the wedding had taken place, and the two had set up housekeeping in the Heir’s suite with all its attendant ups and downs.  While the newlyweds were away on their honeymoon, Severus had offered to move out if Abraxas thought it was a good idea.  He had even had the Snape Apartments in London opened, and a professional decorator had refurbished the rather handsome rooms.  Only the Dark Lord’s word kept him at Malfoy, saying it would be a bit of a blow to Lucius to find him gone when he returned from his honeymoon and he might resent his young bride for driving his lover away.

Taking that advice onboard, Abraxas had persuaded Severus to stay, and indeed it had been wise, the young man entertaining Narcissa and sparring with her like a younger brother while Lucius was involved in the Family business.  They had, all three of them, found a comfortable way to live, thumbing their noses at polite society and enjoying what they had made.  Narcissa had won the battle of the Domestics and triumphed over the social scene while Lucius had proved to be as astute a businessman as any in the world.  And Severus was brilliant at potion brewing, not something a Pure-blood usually excelled at, but with him it was an Art form rather than a mundane task.  Everything in Abraxas’ world was going so well and he was just waiting for Narcissa to announce her pregnancy before he could die in peace, then Sunday happened!

The Malfoy Family had almost suffered a disaster as the madmen had rampaged through the audience, cursing and hexing anyone who moved.  If not for Severus then Narcissa would have been killed and Lucius would have been left a widower.  That disaster had been averted by Severus’ quick thinking and the abilities he had shown in using a very potent form of magic.  It was that very magic that had called Abraxas’ attention to the affair in the first place, one of his devices from the Atlas mountains suddenly coming to life and chiming vigorously while he and his attendant Mr Truman had been playing chess.

His excitement at being able to witness High Court Sorcery first hand had even persuaded Mr Truman to bring around the car for him.  They had arrived at the Ministry, expecting to find the source there, but all they found was the Under-Minister flapping about a disturbance in the park.  It was not hard to draw the conclusion and the Under-Minister had piled into the carriage, Abraxas resetting the device which lead them to the park and the scene of carnage.

Imagine his shock when he saw Severus, battered and bloody, hissing at Albus Dumbledore in the language he had only heard spoken aloud once before, and that a long time ago.  It was even more of a shock to realise the boy was alone and wonder if Narcissa was one of the smears that decorated the landscape.  He knew he had exhibited more emotion in public than he should have, but it was a relief to see the boy, see him look so relieved too.  Even the gasped question was enough to make sure Severus had not let them down, had preserved the dynasty at a cost, quite a high cost.

When the boy passed out the Aurors, bloody interfering fools that they are, had rushed in like jackals, ready to drag his Severus away, but Narcissa had risen to the challenge magnificently.  Her rallying of the Muggles, their clamouring for justice, that Jones woman’s odd expression and the look on Dumbledore’s face had all meant something in the swift and silent conversation but the old man had not been able to tell what.

Whatever had been decided, Dumbledore’s word was the clincher, which was galling to say the least.  He had assured the Aurors that the Snapes had every right to practise High Court Sorcery, being one of the very few remaining connections to the Old Trivariate, an almost legendary breed of human and vampire crossbreeds in the Atlas and Ural Mountains.  It was not surprising that, under such great pressure, he had reverted to Family Magic.  Wasn’t that what any wizard did?  Practise that which he had been taught at his grandparents’ knees when there was no choice in the matter?

The argument had prevailed and Severus had been loaded into the carriage to be transported back to Malfoy along with the shaken Narcissa who gave a semi-coherent account of the day and the consequences before succumbing to the sleeping draught the Dark Lord had dropped into her tea.  The Dark Lord had also treated Severus, spending a long time feeding him potions and studying his face intently.  Abraxas was fairly sure the Dark Lord had been using _Legilimency_ on the boy, but how he had managed that when Severus’ eyes were tightly closed, he didn’t know.

There had been a short, sharp interview with the Dark Lord regarding his lack of consideration for Severus’ life.  The Lord had made his displeasure known but had refrained from punishing him in any way, which was a concession to his condition.  Abraxas had to be thankful for small mercies; he was too old to endure the _Cruciatus_ curse for too long these days.  Still, some of the questions the Lord asked were puzzling to say the least, involving Severus’ family background, his relations on the continent and if he ever saw any of them.  As far as Abraxas was aware, Severus would rather use an Unforgivable on his relations than even look at them, which was understandable, he supposed.  They had not treated the boy kindly in any form or fashion.

Mr Truman was already waiting as he made his way slowly to the dressing room and subjected himself to the man’s careful attentions.  Mr Truman was a real find, a ‘nurse’, trained by Muggles in a hospital that cared for the sick and dying.  Oh, he was a wizard alright, his father was of impeccable family, but for some odd reason Truman senior had married a Muggle and produced two children, Truman and his Squib sister.  Truman junior had decided that the training in a Muggle hospital was much more useful than training at St Mungo’s, and becoming a nurse was much better than training as a Medi-wizard.  Not that Abraxas was complaining; he was very pleased with the man who combined the best traits of a servant, a confidant and a friend with medical knowledge and the magic to make sure he was as comfortable as possible at all times.  He even had enough social graces not to be an embarrassment when they were out at a function.  However, he did not attend meetings of the Pure-blood society as he was only a halfblood and Abraxas didn’t think the Dark Lord would appreciate his attendance.  The only real rub was that he needed the attentions of a man like Mr Truman in the first place!

Still, his affairs were almost complete, only Narcissa’s pregnancy was lacking.  Once Lucius had an Heir to take over from him, then his life was complete.  He slid his arms into the robe Mr Truman held for him and sighed as the weight fell gently to his shoulders.  He had never noticed how heavy robes were before he became ill.  The man smiled sympathetically and held out a measured dose of potion for his pre-breakfast consumption, foul concoction that it was.  Still, he was now into his sixth month of the disease and apart from some tiredness, he felt fine most of the time.  Severus’ potions might taste foul but they worked perfectly.

And Severus was now his concern, the boy having put his own life on the line for Narcissa’s without a promise or for any real gain.  That sort of self sacrifice was unusual in the world they all inhabited, unearned, unpaid-for altruism, a very rare commodity which now obligated Family Malfoy, even if the boy did not see it that way.

As the titular head of Family Malfoy still, Abraxas was obliged to look out for the boy, pay attention to his welfare and happiness, not that he would ignore the boy, he liked Severus for himself.  However, there was one issue that Severus seemed to be completely blind to and that was the issue of their Lord’s attentions to him.  Did the boy not see that the Lord was… courting him – seeking out his company, coming to his side when he was hurt, giving him more leeway than any other in the party to suggest and critique the Lord’s actions and policies?  Of course he did not see, he was a political innocent for the most part, an academic being thrown to the political wolves. 

A Dark Lord of Voldemort’s strength and magnitude did not allow a mere child to get in his way or make remarks unless he was extremely fond of the child, indulgent even.  But even an indulged child could go too far, become a spoilt liability if he was not careful.  The path was even more fraught with dangers as Abraxas thought the Dark Lord did not see Severus as a child but as a potential love interest, which was even more hazardous.  Gods preserve them, Severus was his son’s lover, as bizarre a notion as that may seem.  While Lucius had indulged himself with others during the time he and Severus had been together, Abraxas was fairly certain Severus had ‘remained faithful’.  How would he react if he was asked to ‘cheat’ on Lucius with the Dark Lord?  Would he act sensibly and go to Lord Voldemort’s bed willingly, or would he refuse and land them all in untold amounts of trouble?  The pitfalls inherent in that notion were too numerous to even contemplate!  How to guide Severus, how to advise him and ward him past those sorts of dangers was a problem he almost didn’t feel up to, but he would have to manage, he was obliged to!

Shaking his head, Abraxas thought that approaching Lucius and putting the problem into his hands was probably the best way to handle it.  After all, Lucius did not have any odd notions of faithfulness and fidelity and would probably encourage Severus as being the lover of the Dark Lord was a position of favour unlike any other.  If Lucius had to give up Severus for the duration, then he would certainly see the advantages of that decision and he could be relied on to explain it to Severus sensibly and rationally so that the younger boy was not hurt or upset and would accept the Dark Lord’s advances as the huge favour they were.  After all, they could always rekindle the affair once the Dark Lord was satisfied and released Severus, if Severus was still alive after the break-up of course.

Decision made, Abraxas downed the last dregs of his potion and squared his shoulders, nodded to Mr Truman and sailed out the door with his head held high, ready to face the world for another day.

 

oo0oo

 

“The Dark Lord wants my Severus?  Our Severus – tall, dark and sulky?  Father, much as I respect your insights, are you sure?” Lucius asked incredulously, turning to stare at his father in wide-eyed shock.

Abraxas was very glad he had cast potent silencing wards before beginning the conversation with his son.  “Yes, as sure as I can be without marching up to the Dark Lord and demanding his intentions toward the boy, which is not something I am either entitled to do or stupid enough to do.  For heaven’s sake, Lucius, sit down!  You make me tired just watching you,” the old man snapped as his son paced agitatedly.

“But why would he want Severo, he’s just… Severus.”

“How would I know?”  Abraxas snapped then sighed.  “Look, use your brain here instead of thinking with the other end!  Lord Voldemort seeks out his company, attends him when he needs more care than an average healer can give, talks to him, plays chess with him, takes him under his arm in a very personal show of favour.  How would you read the situation?”

Lucius stared at his father then frowned, his mind taking and discarding possibilities, nodding slowly but with gathering conviction.  “You know, Father, I think you may be right.  The Dark Lord would visit us every now and then before Severus came to live here; now he is here every single time he is in the country, staying in the guest suites, eating at our table and playing chess in your study.  He could do any of those things at his club but he chooses to be here, so there has to be another attraction and that is our Severo.  I know I am not the attraction, or you, or Narcissa.  Humm, how very interesting....”

“Has Severus any idea?” Abraxas asked as his son smirked at him, pleased to see his intelligence had finally won out over his hormones.

“I doubt it.  My Severus is as naïve as a newly hatched chick, all big eyes and beak… er, perhaps not a felicitous simile.”  He grinned as his father barked a laugh.  “I will prepare him, Father.  This could be a very profitable liaison for the Family. Could it not?”

“Oh yes, provided Severus is willing.  If he refuses then it would bring down disaster on our heads, total ruin in an instant!  So, it will be up to you to make sure he is willing and understands what is required of him.”

Lucius ignored his father’s earlier protest and got up to pace the hearthrug with short, thoughtful steps.  “Oddly enough, he really likes the Dark Lord, not as his Dread Lord but as someone he can relate to and argue with, someone of his own intellectual level.”  Lucius shrugged depreciatingly.  “I am no idiot but some of the things Severus says are so far over my head I feel like a giant trying to understand the concept of arithmancy.  Would you believe, Severus sometimes forgets himself enough to call the Lord by his first name, how daring is that?  And the Lord just smiles at him and figuratively pats him on the head.  You know, Father, the more I think of it, the more I believe you are right, the Dark Lord does fancy Severus.  Now we just have to make sure Severus fancies the Lord, or at least accept his advances with some genuine grace.”

 

oo0oo

 

Severus was curled in a tight foetal ball, arms and legs wrapped around himself.  The bed was a mess as usual, blankets and sheets twisted into a knot and wound around him tightly.  Lucius often teased him about being a blanket hog, but tonight’s discussions had been too serious to allow Severus to drift off to sleep in a post-coital haze of satiation.  They had been slowly arousing each other with long, languid strokes and slow, drugging kisses when Lucius had asked a very odd question.

“Have you ever thought of doing this with someone else?”

Severus stopped and rose to lean on one elbow.  “What?”

“Have you ever thought of doing this with someone else?  It’s a legitimate question, especially when a certain person has been giving you long, interested looks and doing everything but stand on his head and clapping his feet to get your attention.”

“You’re barking,” Severus laughed uneasily, flopping down and pulling the quilt up to his chin.  “Who?”

Lucius laughed gently and reached forward to kiss the telltale flags of colour marking Severus’ cheekbones.  “You know who.  Are you interested in him yourself?”

Severus stuttered and stumbled until Lucius hushed him with a kiss.  “So you have noticed, and are you interested?  You should be, it’s a very flattering thing, to be noticed by the most powerful wizard in the world.  You should be flattered.”

“Damn it, Lucius, you sound like you are trying to throw me out of your bed and into his!” Severus exclaimed aghast.

“Silly boy.  You are my love, but you could be his love instead or too, if you could handle the both of us.  I would not mind sharing you with the most powerful and respected man I know, after all, it kind of proves how great my taste is, I had you first.”

Severus hit him with a pillow to wipe the smugness off his face which made Lucius giggle and wrestle him down into submission, covering the long thin body with his own weight.  “Seriously though, love, the Dark Lord has no one and can only allow a very few close enough to share a bed as letting anyone that close requires a high level of trust that is almost impossible to generate.  I mean, if you meant me harm, I would be dead ten times over by now and I am a perfectly ordinary person.  Can you imagine how hard it must be for someone in His position?”

“I’ve thought about it of course, after all, Tom is a virile man, but, Lucius, he is the Dark Lord, what would he want with _me_?”

“Obviously more than he is getting now,” Lucius teased.  “Severus, you are beautiful in your own understated way, long, lean and perfectly formed as well as well-endowed and simply delicious.  You’re versatile, you top and bottom with no problem, you kiss like a dream and you come with your own concoctions so there is no need to go shopping for lubricants or anything else.  I _know_ what the Dark Lord sees in you, his intellectual equal, his friend who is not cowed by his position and a man who likes men with no need to go through the usual elaborate rituals to find out if he will be safe to pop the question or not.  So, Severus, if he does ask you, feel free to go and enjoy yourself; I don’t mind sharing but he might be adverse and if he is, go to him exclusively.  What we share will always be here waiting for you to return.  Besides, I am going to be tied up with Narcissa over the next few months so it would be a great time for you to go and expand your horizons, now wouldn’t it?”

Severus turned over abruptly and shook his head to get rid of the tempting little voices that argued and persuaded in his mind.  He’d had a feeling the Dark Lord had wanted more than chess games from him and the idea intrigued him but the thought of Lucius’ disappointment had always stopped him short.  Now Lucius was virtually pushing him at Lord Voldemort with all his strength and Severus was teetering on the edge of accepting the offer as soon as it was proposed.  

_‘And would it really be such a terrible thing to have someone of your very own for once instead of having to share him with his wife?  To openly show you loved someone instead of hiding in dark corners and sneaking a few hours solace whenever you could.  Would it really be such a bad thing?’_   Ibrim asked from the depths of his being.

_‘The man is an intellectual giant surrounded by pygmies and sycophants who would take anything he has to offer and give nothing back in return.  You have seen how the lesser people treat his ideas and twist them to something no longer recognisable.  Who told him it was not his fault?  Who consoled him when a fantastic idea was corrupted and co-opted, besmirched and butchered until it was all but unrecognisable, nothing but an excuse to violence?’_   That was Snape the intellect whose comments were fair.

Severus the body simply went hard and eager, sweating a little at the thought of a new lover to explore and learn.

Shaking his head, Severus Ibrim Snape chuckled to himself; oh yes, if the Dark Lord did make a pass, he would be most receptive to his advances!

  


	11. Chapter 11: Generation

11 - Generation

 

_Surprise, surprise_

 

“I hate you, Lucius Malfoy!  I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!”

That was the second last thing Lucius expected when he walked into the dressing room he shared with Narcissa.  The last thing was the shoe that flew at his head.  He ducked reflexively, exploding the shoe into pieces, then yelled, “ _Expelliarmus!”_ when she went for her wand.

“Narcissa!  Control yourself, what do you think you are doing?” he snapped as she flew at him, her fists upraised to beat against his chest until she collapsed in tears on the floor in a huddle.

“I’m going to get all fat and ugly and you will hate me and I will get sick and saggy and, and even get stretch marks!  I hate you, Lucius, I hate you so much,” she sobbed, then raised drowned eyes up when he made a frustrated noise of incomprehension.  “I’m pregnant, damn it!”

Her despairing wail was lost in Lucius’ whoop of joy as he lifted her up and swung her around in an exuberant hug.  “How fantastic!  That is wonderful news, a baby, a new Malfoy!  Narcy, how superbly clever you are!  When?  When will the baby come?”

Narcissa was somewhat surprised at her usually quite reserved husband’s evident excitement, her sobs slowing down to sniffles as she tried to think on what the Medi-witch had said.  In point of fact, she hadn’t taken that much notice once the terrible news had been spoken aloud.  She’d heard such horror stories over the last few months as first Marta Goyle, then Lucielle Crabbe and finally Rilla Parkinson had succumbed to the rampant pregnancy that was going around.  Marta Goyle was living up to her name, always moaning and groaning about swollen feet and cramps in odd places.  Mind, if the baby was anything like the father, it was going to rip her internals out when it was born.  With that comforting thought, Narcissa collapsed into wails again.

“Oh now, Sweetness, it won’t be that bad, really it won’t,” Lucius said awkwardly, patting her head and fussing uneasily.

“I’ll get swollen ankles and my clothes won’t fit or anything.”

Lucius knew the reply for that one.  “Then we shall just have to take you to Paris and get some clothes that do fit.  You will be the most beautiful mother-to-be in our whole circle, the trendsetter and the cutting edge of maternity fashion, you’ll see.  And I bet Severus has a potion for swollen ankles, he seems to have a potion for everything else in his pockets,” Lucius coaxed, leading his sobbing wife over to the chaise lounge and seating her delicately on the edge before kneeling to take her hands.  “Darling, no one will ever be as beautiful as you, no matter how hard they try or what spells they use.  And aren’t they going to be so put out when you show them how a real witch behaves during the trials and tribulations.  You will be a serene and gorgeous mother and you will have the most beautiful little boy ever!  Consider the genes he will have, yours and mine, he will be spectacular!”

Narcissa managed to giggle a little.  “What if it’s a girl?”

Lucius looked dumbfounded for a moment then grinned.  “Then Princes and Magi will be queuing up at our door to contract for her hand in marriage, and she will have her pick of swains to tread on as her little heart desires.  We will make her a splendid match, so wonderful that it will make every other mother cry with envy.”

“Oh, dear Lucius, you are silly at times.  I feel much better already.  Bella is going to be so mad that I am pregnant and she is not.  Don’t tell anyone, my dear, but she did tell me in strictest confidence that she made Rodolphus go and buy a potion to see if that would help matters along.  Of course it didn’t, it just made him walk funny for a couple of days.” 

Privately Lucius thought it would take much more than a potion to impregnate the solid, sadistic frigidness that was his sister-in-law, but he had the sense not to say anything to his wife.

 

oo0oo

 

Severus transferred the potion into the glass bottles he had prepared, capping and sealing them as quickly and as efficiently as usual.  He handed the tray to the hulking man who was waiting to take them, ignoring his constant stream of chatter about his wife and her dedicated trials over the upcoming child.  Closing his eyes, he let out a silent sigh as Goyle extolled the virtues of Madame Seglinda’s Gentle Soothing Potion for those ladies with an interesting condition.  All he really wanted to do was Banish the fatuous idiot into a wall, but he managed to restrain himself, mainly because the tray Goyle was holding had enough Incendiary Potion to blow up the whole of the Manor in one felled swoop.

“For Merlin’s sake, Goyle,” he finally snapped as he finished the last bottle, “if you got the lazy bitch off her hind end and stopped her stuffing her guts with toffees and chocolates, you would do her a lot more favours than pushing quackery potions down her throat!”

Goyle jaw dropped then he ground his teeth angrily.  “What would you know about it, you, you stupid… faggot!”

“I know about the eating habits of that spoilt bitch, Marta, simply from observing and I know what goes into the potion because that is my business.  As for being stupid, sorry wrong end of the scale and as for being a faggot, thank God for small mercies!  I am not subject to the machinations of a manipulative, conniving bitch simply because she has chosen to drop a _litter_ that will show all the _main_ features of their parents’ gene pools,” Severus hissed furiously, snatching the tray and placing it down carefully as Goyle began to growl angrily.  “Oh for Merlin’s sake, Goyle, either use a known language or get out of my laboratory, you disgust me!  And if you draw that wand you had better be very sure you make the first curse count or I will hex you into the next century with no reprieve.”

Roaring inarticulately, Goyle swung a fist at Severus’ head and Snape cast _stupefy_ on him with barely a second thought.  Summoning a house-elf, he asked the small creature to take Goyle back to his own home then deliver the incendiaries to Lord Voldemort’s current location, wherever he happened to be.  Sinking down onto a stool, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb.  He had such a damned headache, and all he really wanted to do was crawl into bed with a potion to stave off the migraine he was sure was just around the corner.  Unfortunately, he had to attend another meeting with the Registration Bursar who was inquiring into the potions he was pioneering and researching for Abraxas Malfoy’s use.

Ever since he had taken over the responsibility for Abraxas’ medication, the Bursar had been after him, poking and prying into his research, trying to undermine his methods and ingredients, although why, he wasn’t sure.  Now the Vice President of the Board of Governors of the College of Potions wanted to hear his ‘case’, the case of what he wasn’t sure.  He wasn’t sure what he was defending and if he was defending himself for being right or being wrong, or simply for existing!  Rubbing his forehead, he dug in a pocket and found an appropriate potion, downing a large dose and hoping it was enough before he Apparated out.

 

oo0oo

_Trying Things_

 

“Severus Snape, on the 23rd of September you put forward a proposal for a study into the effective control of the course of Perryander’s Disease with a view to ease the suffering of the victims.  The board gave you permission to do that research on the proviso that you were monitored and your methodology checked and approved by your Research Advisor, is that correct?”

Severus inclined his head in agreement.

“Have you consulted with your Research Advisor?” Hieronymus Pritchard asked silkily, stalking around the pale young man seated on the small hard seat before the desk.

“No, I have not,” Snape said flatly.

“What, not once in the past four months?” the Master persisted jeeringly.  “And why would that be?  Perhaps you think you are more knowledgeable than your tutors, better read and more experienced.  Is your arrogance so great that you feel you can ignore the rules and regulations of this College with impunity?  Pursue your own interests to the detriment of this institution?”  The man was almost screaming as he worked himself into a temper.

A shiver shimmied its way down Severus’ back as old memories tried to crawl up his throat and choke him but never a flick of an eyebrow betrayed him.  He opened his mouth to give a reasonable answer, then his temper flashed and he rose to his feet sweeping his robes around himself furiously.  “How well you read my mind, you posturing little microbe!” he snarled softly, making the man step back from his fury.  “Do I think I am more knowledgeable than my tutor?  Yes, I am - in this area - and my Research Advisor, Morton Gaston, acknowledged that fact and recommended me to Medi-Wizard Mezininis Abolontu of the African College of Medicinal Potions who has been supervising me ever since.  Do I ignore the rules and regulations of the college?  In what way?  By attending the lectures and correcting the bloody textbooks so that future generations of potions students are not subjected to the same misinformation and sheer stupidity I and my fellows have had to suffer?  Do I pursue my own interests to the detriment of this College?  Interesting choice of phrase you have there.  The College was written up in Potions International as at the forefront of cutting-edge research, thanks to the high calibre of its students and their current research.  And whose names were on that list, could it be Anablie Parsons, Telemark Bladen, Helga Morton-Jones and oh, let me see, Severus Bloody Snape.  Now I suggest you climb back into your hole and pull the lid in after you before I blast you to Hell and gone!”

“How dare you!”  Pritchard gasped, going for his wand, but a burst of wandless magic flung him away, bouncing him off the wall and holding him suspended in mid air.

“I have a headache, a precursor to a migraine, so I am not about to play with my prey,” Severus murmured almost gently.  “In fact I am going to put you down and you are going to go away and leave me alone.  I am going to go away and leave you alone and you are not going to cross my path again.  You will not play your power games around me because next time, I might not have a headache and then I might just feel like playing a little _game_ with you, which I guarantee you will not like at all.  At the very least, I will change my Alma Mater to the European School of Potions, taking my research, my expertise and my money with me.  At worst, I will remember I was raised to be a vampire.  Do we understand each other?”

Pritchard’s eyes bugged out as the vice of magic holding his body tightened until he nodded frantically.  Dropped unceremoniously, he scooted back on his arse until his shoulders hit the wall and he curled in a tight ball.  He stayed like that long after the door slammed and the vision from hell was long gone but it revisited regularly in the pompous man’s nightmares.

 

oo0oo

 

“Severo!  Where are you?  What are you doing?” Lucius demanded as he breezed into the laboratory, almost skipping in his excitement.

“I’m brewing, as odd as that activity would be, seeing as this is a potions laboratory.”

“Oh, har har,” Lucius laughed and grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the cauldron.  “Severus, the most fantastic news, we’re pregnant!  Isn’t that wonderful?  Just think a baby Malfoy to carry on the Family Name!  I told my father and he is so…  What are you looking at me like that for?”

Severus sat down on his stool with a plop and shook his head slightly.  “How?  I mean, we weren’t careful or anything, but there’s no history of it in your family, is there?  Or did you fail to tell me something?  I mean, not that I’m--”

“What are you rabbiting on about, Severo?  Narcissa is pregnant and you are wondering if _we_ were careful?  Is there something you want to tell…?  Oh good Lord!  Severo!  Oh, that is just too funny!  Did you think I meant that _I_ was pregnant?”  Lucius dissolved into fits of laughter, unable to go any further.

Severus let out a long, silent sigh, amazed at the rush of disappointment he felt.  He had never thought of having a child of his own, the simple mechanics of the process were totally abhorrent to him, but the thought of Lucius actually falling pregnant…  Killing the thought instantly, he tried to put a good face on it, but Lucius had caught him brooding and was watching him speculatively.  Shrugging, he mustered a smile.  “It was just a passing thought, glad you found it so amusing.”

“Oh Severus, you are such a strange creature at times!” Lucius smiled, sitting down beside him and curving an arm around his shoulders.  “Does the thought of a child upset you so much, will you hate me forever?  How about… how about you stand Godfather for the little tyke, whether it is a boy or a girl.  Yes, that’s a good idea; you will be the Godfather and watch over the child.  I know you will be a good guardian for him and protect him with all of your heart, even if I can’t.  And it will give you a share in the child; it’s the best I can do.  After all, if not for you, Narcissa would have been killed last month,” Lucius said depreciatingly, giving his shoulders a squeeze.  “Can you be happy for me?”

Severus snorted and smiled more genuinely.  “Of course I can.  Congratulations to both of you.  At least Narcissa will make a more sensible mother-to-be than those over-fed cows in the breeding circle.”

“What?” Lucius looked up at him in puzzled inquiry.

“Oh, the Crabbe-Goyle-Parkinson Triad, and a bigger bunch of whining, maudlin soft-shells I have never come across!  Merlin, to hear them talk you would think they were hatching a Thousand Cuts Curse rather than a bloody baby.  I’m afraid I got a little snippy with Goyle the other day and had to send him home Stupefied.”

“Really?  Tell me?”  Lucius settled down to share all the latest gossip.

 

oo0oo

_Shopping with Abraxas_

 

Abraxas Malfoy paced down Diagon Alley in a sedate procession, his attendant following him like a bridesmaid, as he leaned on Severus’ arm for support.  Not that he would admit that he needed it yet, it was just a precaution.  Still, it was rather gratifying that people melted out of the way as they passed, whether from him or from Severus’ intimidating presence, he was not sure.  It had taken quite some convincing to secure Severus’ agreement to the outing and even as they walked he was sure he could hear glass chiming in Snape’s robes.  The boy was such a worrywart!

He had originally wanted to go to Harrods for the shopping, but that suggestion was refuted by both Severus and, when he appealed to a higher court, the head mediwizard of St Mungo’s gave a definite veto too.  So he had to be content with searching for the perfect present in Diagon Alley.  When both the medical community and Severus, who acted like his personal medi-guard, had suggested he shop by catalogue, he had refused the idea immediately.  Just this once he wanted to get away from the house that had been his home for the past seventy years.  He smiled slightly as a passing witch gave him a respectful bow, returning the greeting with grave dignity.  Yes, getting out and about was just the thing to lift his spirits!  And besides, he had a grandson to shop for, or perhaps a granddaughter.

Severus monitored his lover’s father very closely, ready to Portkey him home the instant he showed any sign of tiredness.  He understood and sympathised with Abraxas’ desire to get away from the confines of the Manor, but he didn’t like it!  Not one bit!  As a safeguard, he had every conceivable potion he could think of secreted away in his pockets, ready to treat any problem that came up.  He had even cast a touch-me-not spell over his robes so that people automatically avoided him and, in doing so, avoided getting too close to his charge and spreading their nasty germs.  The attendant, a silent, strong man who never spoke or made a complaint, had his orders to watch his master like a hawk and signal Severus if there was any change in their patient’s condition at all!

Abraxas stopped dead in his tracks and pointed at a shop window.  “There,” he said, ignoring the rest of the foot traffic as he turned to enter the small, seemingly deserted shop.  Severus put his heart back where it belonged and followed him in with a sigh of discontent.  Why couldn’t Abraxas be like every other pure-blood and use a catalogue to do his shopping!

The bell over the door brought a very young witch out from the back of the shop, her smile as wide as her face.  She was a happy little soul, welcoming them with a bonhomie that was genuine and even heartfelt as she introduced herself as Dorcas Golding, the proprietor.  Abraxas sat down on the chair she indicated and even accepted the cup of tea she offered before she enquired what she could do for him.  Severus took the other chair and simply watched impassively as the girl seemed to spread good cheer around her like pixie dust.  When Abraxas said he wanted something very special for his first grandchild, she clapped her hands in delight and giggled, jumping up to pull a couple of boxes down and bring the merchandise to the table for his perusal.  Severus approved of that, as Abraxas didn’t have to move about, simply asking to look as something and the enthusiastic child went running off to fetch it.

Within ten minutes the whole table and the floor was piled with the paraphernalia people seemed to think made suitable gifts for a baby.  There were stuffed toys, miniature wands, silver Naming cups and rattles in a bewildering variety of shapes and sizes.  Even Dorcas’ vast amount of bubbling energy was beginning to flag by the time Abraxas indicated he had chosen something.  Severus glared at him, shaking his head in resignation as the older man merely smiled and began to point, the pile of approved merchandise outweighing the pile of rejected articles.

“Abraxas, the child has to be able to get into his room,” Severus reminded him with a grim smile.  “You have chosen enough silverware to last him his lifetime.”

“I won’t be around to see his lifetime, now will I?  So, indulge me, my dear Severus, indulge me.”

“Don’t I always,” Severus grumbled but did not say another word over the old man’s extravagance.

When the girl went to put away the final stuffed toys, Severus stopped her, moving a fluffy stuffed dragon into the keep pile.  Abraxas smiled at his slightly pained look and burst out laughing when he shrugged nonchalantly.  “It has to be better than the traditional teddy bear,” Severus defended his choice, allowing a long finger to stroke the fluffy head.  The tiny dragon began to purr and Severus’ eyebrow shot up in surprise.

“Depending on the age of the child and the child’s mood, our Dragon Scale toy can purr, sing, dance or shoot fire, only a little bit of fire,” she added when both men looked askance of her.

“Trust you to pick an edged stuffed character,” Abraxas laughed, then waved to the pile of things still decorating the table and floor.  “Send them to Malfoy Manor,” he said off-handedly, making the girl gape then nod quickly.

Dorcas had never expected them to take all the things they had selected, not in a million years.  It was the biggest sale she had ever made and was the difference between success and failure of her newly opened shop.  Nodding quickly, she waved her wand and brightly coloured boxes quickly engulfed the items, ribbons wrapping themselves into bows around the boxes.  She would have to hire extra post owls but that was all to the good, the news would soon go around and the publicity was invaluable!

“Where to now?” Severus asked as he helped the old man to rise, holding his arm until he was steady on his feet.

Abraxas pulled his robes straight and smiled so mischievously he looked barely his son’s age for a moment.  “Let’s eat some ice cream, shall we?”

Severus laughed as he led the way.

 

oo0oo

 

Lord Voldemort frowned when his faithful Abraxas told him Lucius was going to be a father, probably in May or June the following year.  It was his experience that men who were expecting an addition to the family were not at their best when away from that family.  As duty conscious as Lucius was, he would still be conscious of his duty to his family first and foremost.  That Familial Duty was a fact of pure-blood life that Lord Voldemort had learned to deal with even if he didn’t appreciate being second to anything.  He knew Lucius was not in love or even particularly infatuated with his wife, but she was his possession and the child was the most important part of the relationship, the promise of continuation of the Family.

“This is not very convenient,” he said flatly, staring the man down.  “I have had various plans made that include Lucius’ participation.  I am not in the habit of changing those plans to suit just one person.”

Abraxas shivered at the implied threat.  “Perhaps Severus…” he murmured softly, keeping his eyes down and offering no challenge to his Lord’s authority.

“Ah yes, Severus, I was planning to introduce him to the, shall we say, bulk of our work, slowly.  There is something delightfully fresh and honest about Severus and it seems a pity to bring it to a more educated level too quickly.”

“Perhaps if he were taken to a low level meeting first to show him how common people were, how uncouth they could act, he would begin to appreciate the more restrained and refined behaviour of the upper echelons when he encountered them.”

Voldemort pursed his lips for a second then smiled slightly.  “Ah, Abraxas, I will miss your counsel when you are gone.”

“Glad to be of service, my Lord,” Abraxas managed to force a smile to his lips.

Lord Voldemort smiled back, knowing how much effort the pleasantry cost his underling.  Sometimes it was fun to tease people, prod them to see what sort of reaction a remark could wring from them.  The trick was to observe closely without seeming to observe at all, if a genuine hint at their real thoughts was to be gained.  All pure-blood scions learned early in their lives to control their immediate impulses and make sure they never betrayed their true thoughts or feelings to anyone.  Sometimes, he thought, they did not even know themselves what they were truly thinking and feeling from one day to the next.  Pure-bloods were such fun to play with!

 

oo0oo

_The Meeting_

 

The owl was a common barn owl, nothing out of the ordinary nor was the scroll attached to his leg, until it was opened.  Severus studied the note carefully; cast _Acclaro_ over it but nothing special was revealed, just an enigmatic note that told him to bring one gallon of Cheering Potion to the Town Hall meeting rooms in Leeds on the second of the month at six thirty pm.  Only the seal on the bottom of the parchment was unusual, rather similar to the Slytherin crest he was familiar with but different enough to make him wonder.  He was still puzzling over it when he went up to dinner with Abraxas.

“It is Lord Voldemort’s own seal,” Abraxas said firmly, carving the roast beef and handing Severus a plate of bloody slices which made the boy’s mouth water.  Abraxas thought it was very funny that Severus, who ate fish or chicken and lots of vegetables most of the time, sometimes craved raw, red meat with lots of blood.  In actual fact, Severus would probably do better with some fresh blood rather than cooked meat if he would but admit it.  However most of the time he treated the craving as a shameful weakness and tried his best to ignore it.

“But a Cheering Potion, Abraxas?  What on earth would he want with such a – a cheesy thing.  It’s a first year sort of brew, for silly girls to experiment with,” Severus protested, devouring his meal thoughtlessly.  “It’s like the Minister for Magic asking for a whoopee cushion, don’t you think?”

Abraxas cracked a laugh at the boy’s very serious tone, shaking his head at the mental picture his dryly delivered words conjured.  “Do you remember how to brew a Cheering Potion, my boy?  After all, it is rather below your level of expertise these days.”

“Oh, I’m sure I could lower myself to do it.” Severus smirked as he finished his plate of food and selected some vegetables to finish off with.  “I wonder what he wants it for.”

“Ah, now that is something you really should not question,” Abraxas warned softly.

 

oo0oo

 

The town hall was a Muggle venue, Severus discovered as he Apparated to the coordinates he had been given, the potion in his pocket.  Antonin Dolohov met him in the foyer and led him through to the back stage area where half a dozen wizards and witches were already assembled, including Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.  As Severus handed over the potion, they pounced on it, ripping out the seal and pouring it into a very odd contraption.  Severus stepped back and watched as Rabastan Lestrange cast a spell over the container, pumping the handle once.

Bella stepped over to Severus and took his arm, hanging off his elbow with a supercilious smirk that made one of Severus’ eyebrows raise enquiringly.  “You are going to love this,” she giggled, a high pitched sound that had little to do with mirth and a lot to do with some potion that made her pupils as big as coins in her eyes.  “This audience is made up of the base level of supporters, those who are barely better than Muggles when it comes to magical levels.”

“Now, now, my dear, stop hanging all over Severus, you know the boy is an innocent when it comes to the wiles of a wicked woman,” Rodolphus snickered, snaking an arm around his wife’s waist and pulling her close.  “Besides, he probably doesn’t know what to do with a woman, do you, Se-ve-rus,” he drawled in contemptuous amusement.

Severus narrowed his eyes.  “Only academically, but I’m sure I couldn’t do worse than you,” he sniffed, flipping his cloak around himself with a sneer that shamed them all in its coldness.

Before Rodolphus could snarl a reply, there was a hushed silence as the Lord himself stepped into the backstage area and glanced around, nodding to his cadre of henchmen.  “Ah, I see we are all present.  Dolohov, I want you and the Lestranges to supervise the dispersal of the potion.  Make sure it is a fine mist this time, not like the last lot which fell like rain.  Severus, you will come with me.  Pull your hood up and do not show your face.  I want you to be the anonymous man in the shadows.”  He smiled as he patted the boy’s shoulder in passing.

Severus nodded his agreement, falling into step with his lord, a half a pace behind his left shoulder.  He was quite surprised when the Lord took a seat on a throne-like affair in the centre of the stage and indicated he was to step up to his left.  On the right was someone he hadn’t met before, Lord Voldemort addressed him as Karkaroff but didn’t introduce them as a bell softly chimed and the lights beyond the heavy curtain dimmed.  There was a swish of runners and the curtains drew aside, music swelled from an unseen source and Lord Voldemort raised his hand in greeting to a packed but unseen audience beyond the footlights.  The swell of cheers and clapping was almost deafening as the Lord bowed slightly and rose to acknowledge the audience as if they were important to him.  Severus and Karkaroff stood absolutely still, two tall, black-clad shadows in the lee of the throne.

For Severus it was a most peculiar time, listening to the Lord preach increased privilege for those of the world with magic and decreased privilege for those of the world without it.  He spoke of a grassroots movement toward a better world of more money, more goods and more respect for those with magic and of having Muggles to bow down and worship anyone who possessed magical ability, no matter what their levels of expertise.

“Wizards are a naturally superior species to Muggles who have to perform manually even the simplest of chores our children can accomplish even before their magic is at a level to be classed as useful.  A child, a small child of barely five years can light their own candle or cure their own cut fingers; we see it all the time, don’t we?”

The crowd growled an agreement, mothers nodding to fathers, parents to their children.  Severus briefly wondered if any of the commoners in the audience ever showed such a level at that age.  He very much doubted it.

“Yet we must hide our lights under a bushel so as not to inflame the jealousy of the masses of Muggle humanity who threaten to overwhelm us with their commonness,” the Lord continued sorrowfully.

A surly mutter arose, growing louder until the Lord held up his hand to silence them.  “Yes, we hide in shadow and sneak around behind veils of secrecy and _Obliviate_ charms, but the time is coming, a change will sweep the land, carrying the Muggles away to where they deserve to be, under the heel of the Magicals.  If we raise our massed voices to the skies, then the Ministry will listen; will have to listen to our groundswell of cries.  We want to be more than we are; we want to be recognised as Wizards and superior to those Muggles who brush against us every day.  Tell them: cry it aloud on every street corner and in every home, ‘ _We are Wizards, we want to be free!_ ’”  The Lord cupped his ear with his hand and repeated the phrase with an emphasis that was taken up by some, then more, then all of the audience until the hall rang with voices raised in chorus.

_“We will not be oppressed by Muggles!”_

The new catchphrase was quickly taken up and chanted, the audience swaying with the force of their chanting until the very walls reverberated.

_“We are wizards, we want to be free.  We will not be oppressed by Muggles!”_

_“We are wizards, we want to be free.  We will not be oppressed by Muggles!”_

_“We are wizards, we want to be free.  We will not be oppressed by Muggles!”_

Severus caught himself beginning to mouth the chant and shook his head carefully to throw off the effects of the Cheering Potion that was floating in a fine mist around the room.  He narrowed his eyes and half smiled when the Lord turned to face them and smiled widely, winking even.  Karkaroff seemed to shake himself as if he had fallen under the spell but in seconds he was collected and ready to obey the Lord’s slightest wish.  The Lord turned back to the audience and raised his hands, a chorus of shushes breaking out as he smiled benignly on them all.

“You know what you want and you know you have the right to want it, but the Wizengamot will not give it to you, this is a fact.  If you want anything, you must take it with both hands, fight for your convictions and stand by your principles.  If you falter then we will all fail and fall ignobly into the night, merely a whisper of rumour on the wind.  But if we all stick together and demand our due, then our massed voices will ring through the halls of government and herald a new change of policy that even the tradition-bound Wizengamot will be forced to heed and deal with.  Are you with me?”

The crowd roared goodnaturedly.

“Are you with me?”

The crowd roared more forcefully.

“ _Are you with me!_ ”

The crowd rose as one body roaring its approval in a many throated howl that reverberated around the hall and made the Lord smile as the curtains closed and the crowd began to clap and stamp, chanting the name of Lord Voldemort until the boards of the stage vibrated under the weight of noise.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lord Voldemort murmured, gathering his two henchmen up and sweeping them backstage where the Lestranges and their helpers stood and clapped as they appeared.  Lord Voldemort smiled his acknowledgement but did not stop as he strode through the corridor that led to the outside world.  Severus and Karkaroff kept up as the tall Lord stepped into the back alley and turned to smile at them both.

“Igor, you are dismissed, go home and relax.  Severus, I promised the Malfoys I would see you home safely, are you ready?”

“Of course, my Lord,” Severus replied, unsure of what the Lord meant.  He was even more surprised when the Lord stepped up and took his arm as if he didn’t have his Apparation license and needed a side-along Apparation to get to his destination.  About to protest, he shut his mouth as the Lord took his arm, patted it softly and Apparated, dragging him along before his protest became verbal.

 

oo0oo

_Reflections_

 

They materialised on a hilltop in the middle of farmland that lay in rolling folds about their feet.  Farms and small villages were marked by twinkling lights in the distance, echoing the growing population of stars that peeked out as the sun slowly sank into the west.  Orange, salmon pink and soft green blue stained the sky, the scatter of clouds blazing as they caught the last few rays.  A huge gibbous moon was slowly rising too, not quite full yet but close.  Lord Voldemort transfigured a rock into a comfortable seat and sat down; resting his forearms on his thighs as Severus moved forward to stand on the edge of the drop-off and stare out over the peaceful scene.  In the distance a night bird began its chorus and closer to hand something rustled through the grass, a mouse perhaps.  It was beautiful and soothing after the mob scene they had just left.

Turning, Severus moved back toward the Lord, sitting on the cushion he had prepared at his side.  They sat for the longest time until the sun was gone and the stars were all present and accounted for, the moon sailing serenely overhead.  Severus wondered if Lupin was watching the same moon and how he would actually feel about it; he probably did not find it beautiful or serene but frightening and threatening, odd that. 

Finally, Lord Voldemort sighed and moved his head slightly to address his companion.  “What did you think of the meeting, my young friend?” he asked, picking a strand of the long black hair off Severus’ shoulder and rolling it between his fingers.

Severus sighed deeply.  “It was crude, rough and unattractive but an interesting way of introducing change to a society.”

Lord Voldemort smiled into the darkness and tucked the hair behind Severus’ ear before stroking the rest.  “You’re right, it was over-emotional and intended to be, engaging the gonads rather than the intellect, which is the only way to deal with the masses.  I learned that from our old friend Grindelwald and his puppet Hitler, fascinating ideas, the man had but a crude way of enforcing them.”

“He, Hitler, almost wiped out a couple of races of Muggles, didn’t he?  I’ve never quite understood why?”

“Because he could, because he needed to set a minority up as a scapegoat for the majority to feel superior to and to take out their frustrations upon.  It’s a common enough cycle of behaviour.  For the next levels of our own society we have to be somewhat more subtle, engaging both the brain and the emotions before they will be swayed to join our cause.  Have you heard the saying 'the carrot or the stick’, well, that is what we use on the next level.  I think… yes, I think I will take you to a higher level meeting very soon, my Severus.  I believe you will enjoy it.”

Lulled by the stroking motions and drowsy from the lateness of the night after the emotional ups and downs of the evening, Severus merely nodded a little and yawned widely.  Lord Voldemort laughed and rose pulling the taller young man up with him.  “Come along, my boy, time to get you home to bed,” he teased and Apparated, leaving the rocks to revert to their former shape unhindered.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12: Shifting Lines

  
Author's notes: **Artwork in this chapter was created by Thanfiction.**  


* * *

12 - Shifting Lines 

 

  


The invitation was beautifully engraved, the script elegant and the parchment richly creamy.  Severus carefully broke the seal and read the missive, one eyebrow lifting as he studied the signature.  He was familiar with the crest if not the name and it only took him a few seconds to make the connection.  Abraxas almost smiled when he watched the puzzle come together on the boy’s face, a soft chuckle breaking out as Severus glanced up and blushed vividly.

“Has Mr ‘Riddle’ invited you for dinner at the Gentlemen’s Club?” Abraxas teased lightly and laughed more openly as the boy’s mouth dropped open.  That Lord Voldemort used his own name as a _nom de plume_ was a very private joke and very well kept secret.  “My dear Severus, I know you like to think of yourself as a free entity but, my boy, you are under my roof more than any other and I do confess to feeling a certain level of responsibility for your welfare.  When Mr Riddle first thought to approach you, he naturally assumed that I was the proper person to consult in these matters.  After all, you are part of the family, you know….”

Severus almost reeled in shock.  No one had ever thought to be responsible for him or take his interests into consideration before.  “I… I don’t know what to say,” he stuttered.

“Do you want to say yes or no?  I have spoken to Lucius about the matter and he tells me he has spoken to you too, so now it is your decision.  No one will force your hand one way or the other, so feel free to think about it and know there will be no problems from our side of the family.”

Falling back into the chair, Severus could only stare at the old man, a warmth seeping through his bones.  It was as if he was a real person with real feelings and needs which actually mattered to someone besides himself.  He drew in a huge breath that gusted out again as a sigh before glancing up almost shyly.  “Do you think I should go?”

Abraxas contemplated his shallow cup for a second, then looked up, a slightly sad light in his eyes.  “I don’t think there is a lot of choice, my boy.  The Dark Lord wants you and so you must obey him, even in this very personal thing.  If you truly hate the idea and feel threatened by it then I think we can get you out of the country, but, Severus, I don’t think that is a problem with you, is it?  You have always been as intrigued with the Dark Lord as he has been intrigued with you.”

Severus blushed but managed to nod a fraction.

“It’s a wonderful opportunity to gain a powerful position, an inside perspective on how the Dark Lord thinks and feels.  Politically, it would make you one of the most favoured men in the country, socially you would be unbeatable and should receive more offers than you could ever imagine.  Personally, however, you will be subjected to a great deal of strain and compromise, you will have to cater to his whims and needs and keep your mouth firmly shut about all of them.  Still, you like the man and should not find being with him a strain at all.  Have I covered the main points?”  Abraxas sipped his tea then smiled at the boy over the cup’s rim.  “So, what time are you going to dinner?”

 

oo0oo

 

The club’s doorway on Diagon Alley was obscenely plain, a tiny engraved plaque giving the name and nothing more.  Severus was not sure if he should knock as it was usually Abraxas who gained them entry to the exclusive precincts when they came to dine.  Shrugging slightly, he raised his hand to knock, but the door swung open and he entered the dark hallway, a faint spill of torchlight coming from the bracket overhead.  The stairs were just as steep as ever but at the top the foyer was much more pleasantly lit and furnished with a plush sofa scattered with plump cushions.  The reception desk on the far wall was manned by a young wizard who eyed Severus with a raised eyebrow as he hesitated in the doorway.

“Mr. Riddle’s guest, Sir?” he asked in hushed tones, nodding when Severus held out the card he had been sent.  “Certainly, Sir, follow me.”

The new passageway was half timbered in dark oak panelling and the top plastered a soft cream that glowed in the candlelight.  The thick golden carpet blended splendidly with the panelling and was better than a silencing charm for muffling their footsteps.  Dark oak doors were inset at regular intervals, some numbered, some bearing nameplates.  The Usher stopped at the tenth door and scratched politely on the panels.  It swung open onto a fire-lit room furnished in dark wine leather and teak with more of the golden carpet stretching out to cradle the furnishings and tone with the walls.  It was a very masculine room, redolent in the scent of fine brandy and cigars.  Wing chairs sat at right angles to each other before the fire; a small games table was pulled up for easy reaching by the chairs’ future occupants.

The room appeared empty at first as the Usher all but pushed him in and shut the door behind him, but as Severus stumbled slightly, a face appeared around the side of one chair and a welcoming smile lit Tom Riddle’s face as he stood up.  “Ah, my Severus, I am so glad you chose to come and visit me this evening.  Please, my dear friend, come and sit down; scotch, brandy or Firewhisky, what’s your poison tonight?”

Severus made his way to the second chair and perched nervously on the edge of the cushion, his knees hunched up and his hands twisting nervously.  He was slightly mortified to notice there was a distinct tremble in his usually rock steady hands as he accepted the drink from his friend and took a rather hasty gulp.  Of course it went down the wrong way, and he began to cough and splutter most inelegantly.  The glass was plucked out of his hand and amused laughter flowed over him as a strong hand swatted his back obligingly.

“Alright now?  Oh, you are good for me, Severus, you never cease to amuse and enthral.  So, now that you are over trying to drown yourself, can you relax a little?  Would it help if I said I was not about to seduce you before we even eat dinner.  The cook would be mortified.”

Severus laughed, knowing something of the ways of cooks after dealing with the Malfoy chef on occasion.  “That’s good to know,” he said, shaking his head and accepting his glass back while Tom flung himself down untidily in the opposite chair.  “I’m not exactly practiced at this seduction thing, as I’m sure you have guessed.  Usually I just stumble into these things with no clue or foresight.”

Tom laughed and flicked open the top four buttons on his outer robe before taking a sip of his brandy and sitting up again.  The chess board came to his hand like a well trained hawk as he gestured, the pieces following in a steady stream.  “If in doubt, play chess,” he said humorously, Severus laughing and choosing Tom’s right hand which gave him the black side.

By the end of the first game they were both much more relaxed, Tom discarding his outer robes, Severus leaving his open and rolling up his sleeves in a business-like manner.  “That was plain bloody sneaky!” he protested as the white queen checkmated his king, Tom roaring with laughter at his baffled and disgruntled look.  “You are so bloody good at feints and distractions, I was sure you were doing it and thought for sure I had spotted the main thrust but no, it was just a play within a play and checkmate came from a totally different direction again.”

“Ah but you do win regularly, my Severus, regularly enough to keep me on my toes, no getting lazy when playing against you,” Tom congratulated.  “Come on, let’s eat.  I ordered poached Scottish salmon in dill and wholegrain mustard sauce for you, how does that sound?”

Severus had to admit it sounded fantastic and it was, preceded by a chicken consommé and followed by Beef Wellington and lastly a hazelnut cream torte.  He did notice that his portion of fish was twice as big as Tom’s and Tom’s beef was twice as big as his, a perfect balance for both of them.  The conversation during the meal was light and witty, touching on the latest society gossip, who was doing what with whom.  Tom told some anecdotes about his stay on the continent and what he had been doing in the last few weeks.  Severus complained about his teachers and his classmates at College, how dense they were and how tedious the coursework could be.

They squabbled cheerfully over the last bits of hazelnut torte, Tom conceding it to Severus with a gracious air that was belied by the laughter in his eyes.  When he demanded a kiss for being so gracious, Severus just laughed and kissed him most naturally, amazed at the sweetness of his mouth and the skill he had.  A hand rose to cup the side of Severus’ jaw, gently holding him in place as their tongues explored each other with languid thoroughness.

Severus gently eased out of the kiss, nipping gently at Tom’s lower lip as they drew apart, foreheads touching, hands clutching shoulders and necks.  Trying to catch his breath, Severus glanced up through his lashes a smile curving his thin mouth.  “So, dinner is over, now we practice seduction?” he teased lightly.

Tom smiled back knowingly.  “Do we need to practice or can we just do it?”

They both laughed, lips clinging once again as they sank to the hearthrug.  Tom broke the kiss the second time and murmured something under his breath, the rug growing thicker and more comfortable under their knees.  Severus nodded approval as he pulled Tom closer and gently lowered him to the padded surface.  He went with the movement, pulling Severus with him until they were both lying before the fire, gently exploring with hands and mouths.

Nipping and kissing up Tom’s jaw, Severus thrust a hand into his hair to hold him still as he continued his exploration of neck and throat, gently sucking in the hollow of his throat before licking the red patch soothingly.  Tom groaned his appreciation, his own mouth coming down to meet Severus as his hands mapped the delicate bone structure of Severus’ narrow ribs and straight spine.  Severus hummed approval as the exploring hands pushed under-robes aside and coasted over warm, living flesh.  A quickly muttered spell sent the remains of their clothing to a pile on the chair and Severus hissed as their naked flesh touched and brushed against each other.

“You look more like Ibrim than Snape,” Tom remarked as he pulled away slightly to study the long length laid out beside him on the transfigured rug.  The fire’s light lent golden highlights to Severus’ pale, hairless skin and long bones.  “You really are beautiful,” he murmured as he leaned forward and licked one pale brown nipple with the flat of his tongue.  

  


  


 

  


 Severus whimpered, arching into the sensation, his hands clutching at his partner’s back and hips, ready to pull him closer but not wanting the electric sensations of his hot mouth against his needy flesh to stop.  Tom was solidly muscled, his shoulders broad and his flesh unmarked but for a light scattering of dark hair over chest and thighs.  He was hot to touch and knew how to use his mouth to the best advantage of all.  Severus knew he was being somewhat vocal, but he didn’t care as that talented mouth - those soft yet firm lips - sucked and licked its way down his body.

Tom moved carefully between the younger man’s thighs, exerting all his skill and practice to make him writhe and beg as he bent further and took his scrotum into his mouth.  Severus arched high as his testicles were sucked into the hot cavity, rolled gently between tongue and palate then squeezed just hard enough to make him beg for more.  Drawing back, Tom smirked in self-satisfaction, studying the panting young man with growing enjoyment; he was so responsive, and it was incredibly rewarding just to watch the expressions flit across his face at each touch and lick.  A few more touches, a few more nips and Severus would be his, but--

Opening his eyes, Severus blinked hard for a millisecond then smiled lazily, the effect of his self control coming back making Tom laugh aloud in sheer amusement.  “Thought I had you there,” he murmured, slowly sliding his chest the full length of Severus’ body to meet mouth to mouth once again.  A long drugging kiss later, he found himself flat on his back with Severus hovering over him, grinning.

“You nearly did, one more bite and it would have been over for at least ten minutes,” Severus murmured in amusement as he began his retaliatory assault on his partner, who laughed and joined in wholeheartedly.

Using a similar technique to kiss and stroke Tom into a writhing tangle of limbs and needs, Severus played the same game with a similar result.  Tom lay gasping and panting, hanging onto his self control by a thread as Severus grinned down at his, a manic look in his eyes.  “Merlin’s beard, Severus, that was extraordinary!  Keep that up and you will kill me, I’m not as young as you anymore.”

“But what a way to go,” Severus teased wickedly, bending to lick the length of Tom’s erection and make him whimper.  A flick of his tongue and Tom gasped, arching high as he was engulfed by the hot, wet cavern of Severus’ mouth and throat, teeth carefully sheathed in lips, tongue cradling and exciting the back seam.  Gripping the carpet with both hands Tom could not help but buck against the incredibly intense sensations until he thought he was about to lose it.  Severus rode his bucking easily, his mouth extracting every last sensation until Tom let go with a shout that was more scream than moan.  Swallowing hard, Severus kept the throbbing, pulsing sensations going until Tom was drained dry before he slowly and gently moved off, cleaning the supersensitive length as he went.

Shivering in aftershocks, Tom barely reacted as Severus gently raised his knees and coated his fingers with a concoction of his own making, gently easing the first digit into Tom’s lax body.  His eyes shot open, flashing red for a second, then Tom groaned, moving against the gentle probing.  Severus smiled smugly as the older man began to ride his fingers, carefully introducing a second to stretch and loosen his partner.  By the time the third was stretching Tom’s entrance, he was hard again and groaning as the sensation built apace.

“Are you ready for me?” Severus asked, twisting his hand and brushing against Tom’s prostate with skilled and knowledgeable fingers.

Tom whimpered and nodded as his body arched reflexively, lifting his hips invitingly as Severus positioned himself and withdrew his hand.  “Please.”  The sound was barely audible but Severus understood, pressing in gently until Tom was breached.  He waited until the older man had accommodated his girth then pressed home more fully until his whole length was sheathed in hot tight wetness.

“Are you alright?” Severus asked, pausing for Tom to grow used to his invasion.

“If you stop now, I’ll hex you forever!” Tom moaned, writhing as Severus began to move, changing his angle to get the best results for his partner, making Tom gasp and arch and beg for more, faster and harder.  Severus obliged, a pleased little smirk twisting his lips until his own needs overcame his desire for thought or control and he pounded into his partner with dedicated intensity.  

  


  


  


  


Tom felt a second climax build, unusual enough to make his eyes widen before the tide crashed over him and he was drowning in the most exquisite waves of sensation.  He was vaguely aware of Severus’ shout of completion, as he filled Tom with his seed.  Shuddering and gasping, Severus fell boneless over his partner’s chest, only held in place by Tom’s arms wrapped firmly around his torso.  Tom kissed the long jaw, petting sweaty black hair out of his face and hooking a hank behind Severus’ ear.  The fine stuff slid free in seconds and tickled his neck as it slid away.

“Alright?” Tom asked as the younger man panted, his breath slowing to a more natural rhythm.

“Aren’t I supposed to ask you that?” Severus asked softly with a laugh in his voice as he raised his head and bent his neck to kiss Tom passionately.  “That was beautiful,” he commented between kisses.  “Thank you.”

Tom snorted in amusement.  “You’re welcome,” he replied and laughed too, though he wasn’t sure why.  “Although I should be thanking you as I am one up on you.”

“Oh, I’m sure the balance will change before the night is over,” Severus assured him with a smile that did not contain any of his usual smirk or sarcasm.

Tom chuckled and pulled him closer, snuggling him into the curve of his arm as he softened and slid out of his body with a sated sigh.

 

oo0oo

 

Severus did not have enough energy to Apparate home the next day, instead taking the Floo.  He collapsed into his bed at Malfoy Manor and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.  He dreamed erotic dreams, somewhat terrifying in places but so vivid they would have usually left him frustrated and aching in the morning.  Having been wrung so thoroughly dry, they simply left him too tired to get up.  Calling a house-elf, he ordered a light supper and went straight back to sleep, not stirring until the following morning.

Stumbling down to breakfast, he flopped into a chair and cradled his head in his hands, his head aching fit to burst.  Someone nudged his hands aside and put a potion under his nose.  He did not even think as he drained it off and shuddered as the bite of wormwood and mussmoss hit the back of his tongue.  By the time he had thought to make a complaint, the pain in his head had eased spectacularly and he felt almost human again.

“Here, drink this too,” Abraxas said from his left and Mr Truman put a second goblet into his hand, the concoction one he recognised as a body and soul replenishing potion he usually made up for the older man.  

“Why am I drinking this?” he asked irritably but swallowed it all the same.

“Leave us, Mr Truman,” the older man commanded, his attendant reluctant to leave even as he closed the door after him.  “Because, my lad, when you give yourself to a Dark Lord, then there is a certain amount of trauma to body and soul, and he takes a little of both every time he kisses or touches you.  He can’t help that; it is just the way his magic works.  If you do not take care to replenish yourself, then you will be sucked dry until you are merely a soulless, lost creature with no heart or will of your own.”

Severus stared at the old man in horror, then snapped his jaw shut when he realised he was gaping.  “How do you know?” he demanded but did not refute the man’s summation.

“You aren’t the first one he has summoned to his bed, there have been others; Dolohov, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, me, to name just a few.  Those he takes are often marked in some way, usually by a decreasing of their humanity.  You, however, may be able to avoid that fate as you are much stronger than any of the others, and I will do what I can to help you overcome the drainage.”

“Why did you not tell me this before I went?” Severus asked angrily, glaring at the old man bitterly.

“Because you would not have believed me, if I had told you.  Be honest with yourself at least.  You would have called it sour grapes or jealousy, any excuse and you would have gone anyway.  At least now you know I am not telling you anything false, you are exhausted and you need to be replenished.  Every time the Dark Lord penetrates your body, he takes a piece of your soul and only by off-setting that loss with replenishment, can you hope to survive the affair, or else end up like Bella.”

“And if I topped the Dark Lord, what then?  Do I get a piece of myself back again?”  Severus asked almost sarcastically.

“I have no idea,” Abraxas said, taken aback completely.  “I have never heard of Lord Voldemort allowing anyone to top him before, ever, and certainly not when we were together.”

Severus sat very still, thinking about the encounters over the night.  They had been equals in position, aggression and passivity, neither one trying to dominate or subdue the other.  There were a few anomalies of course, like the information Severus’ eyes collected about the Dark Lord, all broad shoulders, muscles and thick black hair over a finely sculpted face.  The messages his hands were sending was of thinness, narrow shoulders, long, long legs and a short body and thin, wispy hair.  There were a couple of flashes of red eyes rather than the usual bright blue, but Severus had put that illusion down to the firelight.  Now he wondered?  Many wizards used enhancing potions and spells to create an illusion of appearance, Polyjuice being the best known, but that was not Polyjuice, it was something else entirely.

“Do you have any further questions, Severus, before I call Mr Truman back?” Abraxas asked gently.

“What if I never go back?”

“You will go whenever the Lord calls you, Severus, you know you will, even when you know it is not good for you, you will go and you will enjoy every moment and you will come back exhausted, only to go again.  You will go until he fails to call you and then you will miss his touch forever.  He is dangerous and addictive and you, my boy, are hooked forever, sad to say.  And before you say anything else, there was no choice for you.  As soon as you became intrigued with him as a person, you were hooked; all he had to do was reel you in like a landed fish.”

Severus stared at the old man but could not refute anything he said, taking note of the sadness in his eyes and the weary droop of his shoulders.  “I may survive, you know,” he said carefully.

“Oh, you will survive but you will never be entirely the same again.  There will always be a small piece of you missing, consumed by the Dark Lord and you will never get it back.”

Shaking his head, Severus rose abruptly and stormed off, leaving the old man seated at the breakfast table.  He was not sure if he had been betrayed again or if he had just been given a gift of perfect love, but either way, he did not want to hear any more on the subject, not for a very long time!  He was at his suite’s door before he realised he was planning on how to see the Dark Lord again and the weight of Abraxas’ words almost drove him to his knees.  He was already well and truly addicted!  Now he just had to find a cure, if he really wanted one.

 


	13. Chapter 13: Raising Nightmares

13 – Raising Nightmares

 

 

“ _Dakan had isit, herissca linge pitakat!_ ”

The words were sharp and cutting, hacking his ears as the riding crop hacked at his shoulders.  Severus whimpered, his head moving in minute fractions to the beat of his fears.

“ _You will learn the words!  Get it right_ _, ‘ **Dak**_ _-_ an' _not '_ da _- **kan'** ,you stupid imbecile!  Again!”_

Severus moved restlessly, the sharp language with its complex tonal over speak mumbled off his tongue as the nightmare pulled him in deeper.  He couldn’t get it right, couldn’t manage the double breathing while his grandmother was laying his shoulders open with her spell-reinforced riding crop.  He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he --  “NO!”

He lashed out with both fists trying to drive the woman away only to contact with something warm and solid which grabbed his wrists and tried to wrap him up safe.  “No, no, I’ll be good, I’ll try, I’ll try!” he shrieked, sobbing and hyperventilating.

“Severus!  For Gods’ sake, man, get a grip!  Severus!  It’s just a dream!  Wake up, wake up, lad.”

The deep, sane voice finally penetrated the panic surrounding the young man, and he froze mid thrash, realising he was in his bed, not his Grandmother’s Great Hall, his Great Hall really.  He gasped and shivered, slumping into the chest of the man who held him close and petted his hair gently.  “Gods, I am so sorry, so sorry!”

“Hush now, what were you so frightened of?  I couldn’t understand a word you were saying.  What language was that?”

Shuddering Severus blinked and focussed on Tom’s face, taking him as an anchor into the real world.  It was funny how the Dark Lord was left at the door of the Gentlemen’s Club suite and he became Tom until they left the suite again.  The irrelevance of the thought helped steady Severus and allowed him to bring his breathing back under control once again.

As he slumped, Tom eased him back against the pillows and conjured a towel to wipe him down.  The boy had been terrified out of his skin and the language he was shrieking in was radically different to anything Tom had ever heard before.  Oh, he knew Severus had been trained in a very old and mystery-shrouded form of Family magic but he did not know exactly what it entailed, and he wanted to know so badly he could taste it.  One of the reasons he had cultivated the boy way past the level of useful minion was to learn his secrets and perhaps the old magic.  Of course, he was a good screw too but that was secondary to the levels of trust such intimacy generated, levels that allowed him to enter Severus’ mind almost at will, without alerting the boy to his presence.  The boy’s mind was still twisted and complex, but Tom had uncovered some of his little secrets already without him realising it.

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked sympathetically, freshening the boy with a cleaning and drying spell before snuggling him down into the curve of his body.  Severus’ whole being still shivered and shook under the force of his nightmare.  It fascinated him that someone who appeared so nerveless was capable of such depths of terror.

“What’s to tell really?  My Grandmother was a prize bitch who insisted on teaching me the language of her ancestors, and to give me an incentive to learn, she used a force crop that affected wherever it hit like a localised Cruciatus Curse.  Sometimes she went too far and almost destroyed my mind with her stupid games.”  He shuddered, then went limp, a dull chuckle seeming to leech some of the tension out of him.  “I nearly laughed myself to death when she died - privately of course - as my father was devastated.  He tried to take her place but he was no sadist, a very poor copy of his mother without her balls.”

Tom laughed at this stinging condemnation of the man who had been his current lover’s father.  “Yes, I know exactly what you mean.  Many years ago I approached your father and offered him a place at my side.  He didn’t have the balls to take what was offered to him, and your Grandmother, well, she told me quite frankly that she would support me if I won but was too busy with her own family to do any more than offer me some money to further my plans.”

“They were the most selfish and self-righteous of all the pure-blood families, no one, not even each other, was good enough for either of them,” Severus mused, relaxing in the safe stream of chatter.  “If they had joined you, then Grandmother would have expected you to bow to her and if you didn’t, she would have tried to make you either by force or by guile and if that failed, then she would have plotted your death.  You are probably lucky they refused to join you.”

“Why, do you think they might have succeeded?” Tom asked in surprise.

Severus paused considering.  “Yes, they might have, I’ve told you often enough that you must pay attention to details or they will be your undoing.  Grandmother was the Queen of Details; she had to make sure everything was exactly perfect before she went on to the next thing.”

“That would have been very slow, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh yes, but ever so sure, once something was accomplished there was never a need to repeat it ever again, it stayed learned.”  The bitterness was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Tom gathered the long, thin man up against his chest consolingly.  “Want to let me in and show me?” he asked, careful to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

Severus drew a deep sigh, then turned and stared up into the eyes above him, noting absently that they changed from blue to brown and then to red as he held them firmly, inviting his lover into his mind.

Tom was always amazed at the complexity of the mind under his examination, full of twists and turns, hidden nooks and gaping pitfalls.  In some ways, sorting through Severus’ mind was like taking a trip in someone’s Pensieve and often the manifestation of Severus’ personality he called ‘Snape’ would accompany him.  This trip was no exception, Snape materialising at his elbow and smirking knowingly as they seemed to stroll past various memories until Tom stopped to peer at a miniature portrait of a cameo scene that interested him.  Snape sniffed in disgust and seemed to open the picture that expanded into a door, allowing Tom full access to sight and sound.

The small, skinny boy sat on a high stool, an impressive tome open on the lectern before him.  The page he was studying was covered in vertical lines of symbols, twisted and odd, that seemed to writhe away from the eye as Tom tried to read the text.  The little boy ran a finger down the right-hand column, his lips moving silently.  Then, to Tom’s intense interest the boy did not turn the page but went to the second column from the end of the page and started at the bottom of the page!  He guessed his shock must have shown on his face because the Snape manifestation hissed a laugh at his expense and turned away to the memory bookshelf, pulling out a thin book.

“This is the primer, if you are interested,” Snape commented as Tom took the book and studied it closely.  “And these are the dictionary and grammar primers.”  He handed Tom two more books which were obviously part of the same set.

Tom was loath to let the books go even though they were only traces of memory inside his young lover’s head.  These three books could be the key to a whole new world, a key everyone around the magical world thought didn’t exist.  He made a quick mental inventory of the library, noting the layout and position of the landscape from the small, mullioned window.  He also watched closely as the books were replaced in the bookshelf, marking the placement on the shelf very carefully.

They moved on, away from the younger Severus into a Great Hall with a throne at the far end.  The woman who sat straight-backed on the throne was very obviously related to Severus, the same long face and black hair but wings of grey fanned out from her temples.  She had a sneer that was good enough to make Severus’ sneer look like a thin imitation as she stared down her nose at the small boy grovelling at her feet.  A riding crop of Muggle design hovered in a very non-Muggle way near the boy’s head.  The young boy Severus was repeating what was obviously a catechism in the lesson he had been learning from the big book.  He was speaking, reciting the sounds and drawing the figures on the blackboard at his side.  The boy made a noise like a strangled cat and drew a figure, then jumped when the riding crop slashed across his shoulders with a whistling force.

Tom jumped and Snape hissed angrily as the crop drew back, the boy shuddering before restating the sound and earning another hefty blow.  He almost faltered, but he managed not to smear the figure he was drawing on the large blackboard.  The crop hovered but did not connect as the boy continued the recitation with no further reaction to the blows.  Tom turned to check with Snape and startled, a look of pure, malignant hatred being shot at the woman on the throne.  Obviously Snape remembered the memory and knew how much pain the blows had caused.  If looks were enough for _Avada Kadavra,_ then his grandmother would have dropped dead on the spot.

He jumped when the crop hissed through the air and cracked on flesh again as the boy mis-said another sound, this time laying open the fabric of the boy’s robe.  Tom suddenly realised that the blows were growing harder and harder with each mistake.  Another blow landed, and the boy hissed as a flap of material fell open enough to show bloodied flesh under the fabric.  Another blow landed half a second later and sent shreds of flesh flying.  The small boy mewled, shivering in shock, but it was enough noise to cause the sadistic woman to grin and rise unhurriedly to lay hand on her riding crop.  Snape shivered and started forward, but there was nothing to be done against a mere memory, a shadow of the past event.  Tom tried to grasp Snape’s arm but of course, his hand would not connect, nor could Snape’s back take the blows for his younger self.

The _Legilimens_ fell apart, and both men shuddered when they found themselves in their own bodies, huddled together before a rather burned down fire.  Severus coughed hackingly in an effort to stifle the sob that was threatening to escape his control.  Tom sighed and pulled him closer, petting his hair off his forehead and dropping a kiss on the high, clear brow.  A flick of a hand brought a brandy flying over at his command, and he forced Severus to sip the warming liquor.  Gathering the shuddering body closer again, he pulled the blankets up to Severus’ chin and rocked him gently until the shudders faded to mere, occasional shivers.

“Okay?” Tom asked some ten minutes later.  “Humm, I see what you mean about going too far.  You have to be able to earn rewards to offset punishment in some way.  How long did it take you to learn that… alphabet?”

“Yes, the alphabet, all fifty letters and three tonal ranges with three written forms for each letter,” Severus muttered in disgust.  “It’s a complex language based on tones and tenses with genders for certain items and actions.”

“At least you had primers,” Tom consoled gently.

Severus sighed, snuggling close and half asleep.  “True, but they were so old the charms were a bit worn so some of the sounds weren’t exactly clear in places which was a problem.  But Grandmother didn’t take any excuses, not even legitimate ones!”  His last words were almost engulfed by a yawn.

“Go to sleep, my Severus, I will ward and keep you from harm,” Tom promised with a fond smile that had a hint of gloating and triumph hidden in it where Severus could not see or hear it.  The boy had just given him a gift that was so great, he could not plumb the depth or span the breadth of it in one thought or even a week of contemplation.

 

oo0oo

 

There was a stunned silence in the hall, then one by one the guests raised their voices in protest over the Dark Lord’s latest announcement.  He shook his head and glanced over to where Karkaroff, Lucius and Severus stood in a loose group to one side of the room.  Severus was impassive as usual, the other two almost as good at hiding their emotions.  For a moment the Dark Lord thought he was going to lash out at the vociferous crowd below his dais, but the sight of his three young men steadied his temper and he merely cast a silencing hex over the lot of them.

“I have to go out of the country to continue my studies for a time; this is my wish and my imperative.  No one and nothing will stand in my way.  One more comment, one more wail or denial and I will be forced to act.”  A wave cancelled the dumbing hex but not a sound was heard as the Lord turned away and left the stage.  It was only after a few minutes that the speculation began again.

“So, where’s he off to, Snape?” Simon Parkinson asked slyly only to be quelled by a flat black stare that seemed to crawl inside his head and make a few nerves twitch painfully.  “I mean, if you know, that is?” he stammered, trying to regain ground and failing miserably.

Shaking his head in disgust, Severus ignored the man as he struck up a conversation with Lucius.  However, on the inside, he did wonder where Tom was going as he had said nothing about taking a trip.  It wasn’t until he returned to his flat in London that he received a note telling him Tom was going to Europe to speak to some of the non-human races such as the vampires and the werewolves.  His mind relieved, Severus turned to his studies with a lighter heart.

The last year of his potions course was drawing to a close and the competition to be the best was fierce.  Even Severus made an effort to study for the final exams.  Every single aspect of their studies over the last three years was explored, investigated and dissected, the strengths and flaws in their understanding pulled out and exposed to the light of academic investigation.  The practical examination ran over a period of a month while the theoretical exams took one day per section of potion production.  Every theoretical paper was more than four hours long with a number of essay questions as well as short answers.  It was a gruelling set of exams by any standard and with Tom out of the country, Lucius tied up with his wife, and Abraxas comfortable with his medication, Severus could devote all his time and attention to his studies.

Narcissa continued to grow in size as the baby in her belly grew.  Lucius danced in attendance, bowing to her every whim, taking her to Paris for the shopping and Bath for the waters, which didn’t last long as the waters tasted very bad.  After that experience, she took the potions Severus brewed for her without further complaint, even admitting that they did make her feel so much better.  To amuse herself, she instigated the Mother-to-be Club for herself, Goyle, Parkinson and Crabbe, inviting them to tea once a week so they could exchange stories, complaints and tips on how to survive pregnancy with the least strain.

While the rest of the magical world reeled under the attacks of the Death Eaters, Malfoy Manor remained calm and serene, sheltering its inhabitants in a cocoon of privilege and plenty as it always had.  Christmas came with its rash of parties and balls, gatherings and concerts but still there was no sign of the Dark Lord returning to his native shores.

“Do you know, Severo, I quite miss the Dark Lord sending summons in the middle of the night for us to join him in odd places,” Lucius said idly as they surveyed the huge Christmas tree Narcissa had insisted on installing in the Great Hall.  Colourful light balls and small stars danced and twined through the branches, a heap of colourfully wrapped gifts already accumulated around the trunk.

Severus sighed, casting a small glamour that turned the scattering of pinecones into small birds which sang sweetly.  “I miss him, too.  Your father is a good chess player, but he doesn’t stretch me like Tom does.”

“And the chess is all you miss, is it?” Lucius teased slyly.  “Perhaps you need a small itch scratching, do you?”

Severus glanced at Lucius and smiled.  “Not yet but it is getting that way.”

“Maybe he will come back for Christmas,” Lucius said consolingly.  “If not, then I know what to give you for a Christmas gift.”

Severus burst out laughing.

The Dark Lord did not return in time for Christmas, but the Malfoys spent a good holiday, one of the best Severus could remember.  He received more presents than ever before in his life, from many people he could barely remember meeting.  Some were so obviously bribes of good will, he was almost tempted to send them back with an exploding hex hidden in the wrappings.  Lucius and Narcissa both talked him out of it, telling him to enjoy the gift but to take it as a tribute, not a bribe of favour.  If anyone made a comment, then he could always tell them they were fools and he was not corruptible like that.

New Year’s Eve saw a heavy fall of snow turn the Manor’s grounds into an iced confection, and the guests for the New Year’s Ball were offered sleigh rides around the grounds in a fur-lined and spell-charmed sleigh, pulled by two dappled grey unicorns with bells on their harness.  The orchestra played all night, the bells rang out at midnight and the guests rang in the New Year with champagne and a huge Yule Log blazing in the fireplace.

On the fifth of January, the day before his birthday, Severus received a summons to Snape Manor, unexpected and very unwelcome.  He glared at the Eagle owl mercilessly until it took off in a huff, leaving a couple of loose feathers behind.  Taking the note with him, he stormed down to breakfast, his mood foul as he slumped in his chair.  Both Narcissa and Abraxas drew back hurriedly when the young man bit their heads off over mere civilities.

“Ooh, someone got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning, or was it the wrong bed?” Narcissa snapped back sarcastically.

“Well, it wasn’t your bed so it couldn’t have been all that bad,” he snapped back, pouring tea and snarling at the elf who offered him Eggs Benedict.

“Severus, the things you say!”  Narcissa cooed angrily.  “However would Lucius or even worse, the Dark Lord react if they found you cheating in such a terribly perverse way?”

Severus drew a deep breath, ready to blast her, then blew it out again grumpily.  “I had two owls in quick succession, not a very welcome thing but one I have to respond to, okay, so please, just let me sulk in peace!”

“What were they about?” Abraxas asked gently, buttering toast and adding strawberry jam by the spoonful.

“I have to go to Snape Manor and meet some Auror or someone.  According to the first owl, Leonid Tremundubus, my Master of Ceremonies, has met with an accident or was murdered or something.  The second was from the head of the Aurory at the Ministry and they want me to come and confirm it.”

“That he’s dead?” Narcissa asked in surprise.

“I don’t know, it was quite ambiguous,” Severus replied slowly.

“I will send one of my legal staff with you,” Abraxas decided swiftly.  “He can stand as an impartial witness, just in case someone is playing games.”

About to refuse, Severus relented and nodded reluctantly.  “Very well, that makes sense.”

 

oo0oo

 

The wards on Snape Manor were humming angrily when Severus Apparated into the front courtyard, the witness Abraxas had provided arriving half a second after him.  The man was a barrister and was prepared to record all events, no matter how mundane they were, for future recall.  Severus was still unsure of why he needed a witness, but he knew Abraxas was more experienced than he so he didn’t argue.

The front facade of Snape Manor was very plain and ordinary compared to Malfoy, a single door bound in iron under a simple porch rather than an elaborate pillared portico.  There were three steps leading up, that was true, but they were grey granite and unadorned, functional in the extreme.  As Severus approached the door, it opened obligingly, a house-elf snapping into being to immediately welcome the Master home.

Severus shivered and nodded as he glided carefully into the Great Hall, glancing at the floor in front of the stairs.  The shadow of a body lay on the honey wood flooring, the withered old features of his Master of Rites looking slack and dazed, his neck twisted at a very peculiar angle.  Sighing deeply, Severus bit his lip as a few memories of the old man surfaced briefly but barely ruffled his tightly held control.  He almost levitated when a pop sounded too close for comfort and an Auror appeared to his left, a second Auror Apparating in to his right so he was bracketed by red-clad menace.

“Well, well, we meet again,” the right hand woman said silkily, her wand half drawn even as her colleague edged closer from the left.

“Severus Snape, Potions student and suspected Death Eater,” the left hand one said harshly, reaching out a hand to grasp Severus’ left arm.  “If I was to pull up this sleeve, what _do_ you think I would see?” 

The witness coughed depreciatingly and moved forward, breaking the growing tension.  “My client was summoned here by you for some purpose of identification.  If you are going to simply harass him, then I will advise him to leave immediately, expel you from his property and lodge a complaint with your superiors.”

“And who are you?” The right hand Auror demanded, spinning on her toes.

“I am Monalias Trelawney, attorney for Lord Severus Snape.  Please identify yourselves for the record, as the law dictates.”

The woman snorted in disgust then snapped.  “Alice Longbottom, Auror Constable.”

“Alastor Moody, Auror Sergeant,” the man said in equal disgust, their names and titles activating the magic that verified their words.

“Very well, please continue with the business at hand and do not subject my client to harassment again or - as I have already indicated - this meeting will be terminated with prejudice.”

Both Aurors backed off, but if looks were _Avada Kadavra_ then Severus would have been dead ten times over.  As it was, Alastor stomped away, his false leg sending echoes up to the rafters before he turned dramatically.  “Do you recognise the body there at the foot of the stairs?” he demanded harshly.

“Ehem,” the lawyer coughed discretely.  “There is no body at the foot of the stairs.”

Alastor snarled and Alice ground her teeth, but both Aurors knew they were caught.  “Do you recognise the semblance of a dead body at the foot of the stairs?” Alice snapped angrily.

“Ehem, there is a semblance at the foot of the stairs, but it is not yet established that it is the semblance of a dead person or a living person,” he said meticulously.

It was Trelawney’s turn to be the subject of the glare but he didn’t drop dead either, merely blinking in what seemed to be befuddled patience.  The grinding of Alastor’s teeth could be distinctly heard in the silence that followed.

“Do you know this body or not?” Alice snapped, her patience entirely lost.

“The semblance seems to be that of Leonid Tremundubus, my Master of Rites, who, I was informed by an owl from his wife this morning, met with an accident some time yesterday or last night,” Severus replied courteously in the face of their temper.

“So you admit you know the man?” Alastor pounced eagerly.

“I know, or rather, knew the man whom your semblance resembles but whether that is the man in the semblance I cannot ascertain.” Severus replied, having caught the drift of the way the lawyer wanted to handle the situation.

“What game are you playing, Snape?” Longbottom snarled, half drawing her wand.

“My client is merely establishing that he does not have personal knowledge of Leonid Tremundubus, whom the semblance was made for, but as he is a law-abiding citizen he will proceed as if he had seen the Aurors create the semblance from a real body that was presumably at the foot of the stairs and assume that the Aurors are truthful in their words.  However, if at a later date, it proves that the Aurors were in fact negligent then anything said or done from this point forward would be nullified.”

“Oh, your client doesn’t get out of it that easily!  We were very careful to follow the rules and regulations in this particular case,” Alastor hissed triumphantly.  “Now, tell me, young master Snape, what you were doing at eight o’clock last evening?”

Severus frowned thoughtfully.  “I spent part of the evening at the Wizarding Library and was hustled out by the librarian at approximately nine o’clock.  I was studying in the main reading room and have no idea if anyone saw me.  Although, I do recall I did have a conversation with Lacrima Drearwth, a Masters candidate, on the properties and uses of night crawler gut in sleeping potions.  I have no idea what time that was.  After leaving the library I Apparated straight back to Malfoy and played chess with Abraxas until after midnight, expecting to be able to sleep in this morning but, oh no, some idiot owl had to drag me out of bed at the crack of dawn, then your less than polite summons came half an hour later.”

“Who else has access to this Manor?” Alice demanded rudely.

“None of the family and very few of the servants; the Master of Rites and his immediate apprentice had access to the Great Hall and the lesser halls upstairs but apart from the house-elves, the place is deserted.”

“What about you?”

“Me?  I wouldn’t come here if the place was on fire, and I am only here because your Ministry threatened me with immediate and unconditionally arrest if I didn’t cooperate.  I personally hate the place and hope it does destroy itself spontaneously, preferably with everything in it!”

“Seems like a fine house to me,” Alice said thoughtfully and began to wander further into the Great Hall, a swirl of dust coming from under her feet.  “I thought you said the house-elves were in charge of cleaning the place?” she sneered, kicking a foot to stir up more dust.

“They won’t go any further into the hall than that line of demarcation,” Snape said almost cheerfully.

“Oh, and why not?”

“Because my grandmother doesn’t like it.”

“Veraline Snape is dead…” Alastor began when a shriek of sheer fury split the air and Alice was suddenly tossed high and suspended midair, whirled around and bounced off the ceiling.  No matter how she struggled and writhed, she could not get free, then the blows started, making her swear and yelp in pain.

“Force crop,” Severus stated with relish.  “It's lost a lot of its impact thanks to being non-corporal but it still hurts.  It gives the house-elves a nasty jolt so I gave permission for them to stop going into the Great Hall.”

“Get her down!” Alastor demanded furiously as he strode forward, only to be almost caught himself, only a quick skip backward saved him from the same fate.  “Merlin’s balls, Snape, do something, she’s pregnant!”

Severus snorted and stepped forward until his toes were neatly aligned with the edge of the dust line.  Squaring his shoulders, he lifted his hands, palm out and began to recite in the language his grandmother had taken so much time and pain to teach him.  The snarling hissing words, caught the ghost’s attention, and Alice was dropped to the ground with a thump as the apparition swooped forward and slammed into a wall a mere centimetre from the end of Snape’s nose.  Alastor gingerly edged forward and grabbed Alice’s robe, dragging her over the safe line as Snape’s habitually sullen expression morphed into a smile of pure evil.

“ _Haz griktak, morenx?  Faldinas majaka zatax hebruss!_ _Faldah!_ ”

Whatever he said drove the ghost to new heights of fury, making it slam into the wall again and again.  Severus merely stood his ground without a flinch until the ghost seemed to disappear with a distinct bang of displaced air.  Chuckling evilly, he turned and surveyed the two Aurors almost jovially.  “That was my ex-grandmother, a charming lady, don’t you think?”

“What did you say to her?” Alastor asked almost respectfully.

“Oh, not much, just your basic taunting and jeering.”  Severus quirked a smile then sighed.  “Don’t go into that part of the house or in corresponding areas upstairs, she tends to toss people out of her domain after she has played with them for a while… oh.”  All four living inhabitants turned to where the semblance lay in accusing silence at the foot of the stairs.  “But Leonid knew the areas that were not safe; he wouldn’t be as stupid as to venture too close, would he?”

“Could your Grandmother lure him in without him realising how close he was?  That ghost or whatever it is packs quite a wallop,” Alice conceded, limping badly where she had landed on her hip with bruising force.

“The old bitch can tear a house-elf to pieces with no effort so tossing a frail old man around would be no trouble at all,” Severus confirmed shortly.

“Why don’t you get the curse breakers in?” Alastor demanded furiously.

“Why?  All the family knows she is there and not to venture into the house; no one else has any business in here, so trespassers do so at their own risk.  She’s a really cheap guard spell and she really hates that I use her as such so that is just an added benefit.”

“You are really twisted, Snape, you know that?” Alice hissed softly.

“Oh thank you, Auror Longbottom, I do try,” he replied in simpering tones that made Alastor’s teeth grind again but Alice merely barked a laugh.

“We’ll be checking on your alibi so don’t disappear, Snape.  Come on, Alice, we had better report this to the Chief.”  The two Aurors Apparated out with barely a nod.

Trelawney blinked at the empty space then smile at his young client who merely shrugged.  “I suppose that lets me off the hook for now,” he mused with a shrug.  “Would you like to come back to Malfoy to compose your report?” Severus offered courteously but the older man shook his head with a smile.

“No, I’ll go back to the office.  Last time I was at Malfoy to write a report, it took four days and I don’t have much time to spare just now.  Please tell Abraxas I will owl him a copy of the report and will visit in a couple of weeks’ time.”

“I will.”

The two wizards shook hands and Apparated out to their separate destinations, leaving the house to its ghosts.  Upstairs, the ghost of Veraline Snape hovered angrily, hugging her knowledge and chewing over the losses with both fury and hope.  Someone was going to get a shock and she hoped it was that uppity, disgusting, diseased, half-bred, sewer scrapings, piece of filth…

 

 


	14. Chapter 14: When Push Comes to Shove

14 - When Push Comes to Shove

 

_The Mothers-to-be Club_

Narcissa sat knitting.  It was a white, lacy matinee coat in the finest silk yarn on the finest gauge needles available, and the pattern was the most intricate available in the Witches Weekly.  Marta Goyle and Rilla Parkinson watched the needles move like hawks watching a mouse, ready to pick at any mistake or any hint of magic.  Both had tried the jacket and both had failed to produce the fine, spidery lace.  Lucielle Crabbe merely smiled, having known Narcissa for years and knew fine well she could knit and sew with the best of them.  They were skills her mother insisted all three Black girls master at an early age.

All four women sat in the Malfoy drawing room taking afternoon tea and complaining about their husbands, their families and their swollen ankles.  Mindful of position, Narcissa merely shrugged and smiled enigmatically when Rilla whined about her sore back.  A giggle greeted the news that Marta’s ballooning stomach meant she couldn’t even put her own shoes on.  Lucielle, furthest along and most uncomfortable, sighed deeply and rubbed her bulging belly under the most fashionably cut maternity smock available from Italy.

“You never say anything, Narcissa, and you can’t say you haven’t felt uncomfortable this spring!” Marta snapped when the tall blonde giggled at her tribulations.

“It’s barely February and not that hot yet,” Narcissa reminded the woman sweetly.  “I have learned that weathering the trials of impending maternity without complaint makes Lucius very proud, and I don’t have to worry about even trying to put my own shoes on or rubbing my own back.  I have a maid, a Squib who helps me dress and looks after my hair.  Lucius decided I was just being brave when I didn’t complain and brought in a masseuse once a week so I don’t have to worry about sore backs or swollen ankles.  If I feel under the weather, even gloomy old Severus will whip up a potion to make me feel better.”

“And how is dear Severus?  Still with your, er, family?” Rilla asked slyly.

Narcissa smiled back sweetly, never a hint of her own fury showing as she finished her row.  “Naturally, he is a favourite with Abraxas and Lord Voldemort, so of course we treasure him, if not for his own self.”

Lucielle took a sip of tea to hide her grin at that sly put-down, knowing Rilla and Marta would miss it.  Another twinge hit her back muscles and she grimaced a little as she tried to find a more comfortable spot on the chair.  The baby was due in a couple of weeks but had decided to get ready early.  The Medi-wizard had told her she might go to hospital a little early, but her family history said late was more usual.  Still, that was two weeks away and having tea with the ladies was not a social occasion, it was a political necessity.

They were still in the process of character-assassinating Severus Snape, not exactly a wise pastime either.  Time and again, she had warned Vinnie to keep on Snape’s good side, mainly because of the way Lord Voldemort never let him stray more than a few feet from his side.  She wasn’t sure of the exact balance of relationships between the Dark Lord and the dark boy, but she was pretty sure it was too close to be intruded upon.  Rumour and innuendo said they were making the two backed beast but there was no way to confirm it.  At least Narcissa was wise enough to realise there was something going on between the two and not to make too much fuss.  Still, it was rather a scandal that Lucius Malfoy kept his lover in his home, as well as his wife, a delicious scandal that didn’t actually do Lucius’ reputation any harm at all.  Sighing, Lucielle moved again, the sharp pain making her gasp and squirm.

Narcissa looked over to her friend, putting aside her knitting as a flash of acute pain twisted Lucielle’s pleasantly pretty face.  “Are you feeling well, Lucielle?” she asked, half rising as the woman began to speak but then doubled over, a low moan coming instead.

“Oh Merlin preserve us, she’s having it here, on the floor!” Marta shrieked, overturning her chair in a bid to get away from the suffering woman.

“How common can you get?” Rilla asked the air with a roll of her eyes but did nothing to help as Narcissa quickly hurried to her guest’s side.

“Shut up, Marta!  Make yourself useful, Rilla, summon a Medi-witch!”

“I told you, Narcissa, my magic is all about the place, I couldn’t summon a handkerchief, never mind a wizard,” Rilla gasped, clutching her chest as she backed away to where Marta Goyle was huddling by the sofa.

“Damn it!  Winny!  Mappa!  Where are those lazy elves?  Someone!  Anyone!”  Narcissa screamed when no elf arrived.

“Did you know you go all red in the face when you scream?” a cold, purring voice spoke from the doorway and Severus glided forward, Abraxas hard on his heels.  “Humm, looks like you are about to drop your litter, Madame Crabbe,” he said softly, only to be glared at by Narcissa and hushed by Abraxas who was helping Narcissa up.

“Severus!  Be nice,” Abraxas admonished sternly.  “Take Lucielle to St Mungo’s immediately.  I will owl Crabbe and tell him to meet you there.  Best go by Floo; you don’t know how an Apparation might affect the child.”

“Shouldn’t Apparate after eight months,” Marta said helpfully.  “You can make the baby into an idiot.”

“Well, no affect in your case,” Severus muttered under his breath, making Lucielle snigger and gasp as he picked her up off the floor.  “Toss in the Floo powder, Narcy, there’s a useful girl.”

“If you weren’t carrying a friend of mine…” Narcissa hissed as she tossed a handful of Floo powder into the flames, and Severus smirked as he called St Mungo’s and stepped into the green flames.

 

oo0oo

_They Should Lay Eggs_

St Mungo’s was as chaotic as ever, wizards and witches clamouring around the reception desk, harassing the young witch on duty with their insistence on immediate assistance for their child or sibling, spouse or parent.  Severus surveyed the herd and simply ignored them all as he glided over to the reception desk, a wave of coldness heralding his arrival.  People stepped away almost automatically, some gathering their families close, others bowing their heads respectfully.  Lucielle shuddered but could not make any protest as another contraction hit her, making her groan.

“Maternity,” Severus said softly, and the girl pointed automatically, her eyes wide and frightened.  Inclining his head, Severus turned on his heel and glided off in the direction of the wards.

Depositing his burden on a convenient stretcher, Severus raised his head and pinned the closest available Medi-wizard with his black eyes.  The man hurried over and Lucielle gasped the name of her doctor before the next contraction hit.  When she was conscious of her surroundings again, Snape was gone and Vinnie was holding her hand, looking totally terrified.  Vincent Crabbe junior made his way into the world later that day, a healthy ten pound bundle of joy.  Father and son were doing well, mother was just glad to have it over and done with!

“What possessed you to go out to the Malfoys’ so close to the birthing?”  Vinnie asked, patting the hand he had severely bruised during the birth.  “You know a lady’s magic is affected at such a critical time in her parturition.  The Medi-witch said so at the classes we went to.”

Lucielle shook her head too tired to be diplomatic.  “And not to go to one of Narcissa’s little mother-to-be teas would be political suicide for both of us!  At least this way she knows I have a good reason for not turning up next week and can make no mileage out of it.”

“Oh.  I never thought of that.  I suppose I had better send her a gift for getting you into the hospital so smoothly.”

“That was Severus Snape’s doing.  He carried me through the Floo and forced the medical staff to take care of me immediately when we arrived.  I don’t know how he did it but they just ran to do his bidding, quite amazing really.”

“Snape?  Oh Merlin!  Now we are in for it!  Snape hates to do anything for anyone; he just glares whenever any of us suggest anything.  He is such a spoilsport!” Vinnie complained, pouting miserably until his wife smacked his arm.

“He was there when we needed him, and he didn’t complain about my making a noise in his ear or a mess of his clothes so just be quiet, do you understand.  You will say thank you to Severus Snape, publicly, and you will give him a gift, perhaps one of the small framed photographs, you know, the usual thing.”

“For Snape?  But, but he’s a monster!”

Lucielle shook her head and closed her eyes tiredly.  “Do as you are told!” she snapped.

Vinnie pouted but kissed her cheek and muttered, “Yes, dear” before going down to the nursery to stare at his son fatuously.  He was such a good, big, strong boy in comparison to the rest of the scrawny brats, a typical Crabbe!  Maybe Snape did deserve some credit after all, even a baby picture.  It looked a bit like giving a fluffy kitten to a dragon though, not exactly the best of ideas.

 

oo0oo

 

“I hear you all but delivered young Crabbe single-handedly,” Lucius teased as they lay side by side in Severus’ big bed, relaxing.

“Gods!  Don’t remind me!  Lucius, do yourself a favour, have Narcissa deliver at home in the clinic, St Mungo’s is a madhouse!  I had to put a Summoning Charm on the bloody stupid Medi-wizard before he would even come close enough to look at the woman.  She was squirming and leaking all over me, and he stood there with such a gormless look on his face I thought I had ended up in the Special Unit instead of maternity.”

Lucius dissolved into fits of giggles at Severus’ sheer outrage, listening to him rant on about the inefficiency of the St Mungo’s staff, the ridiculous system humans had for making small humans and the quirks of biology that did not allow for the proper precise timing of the child’s birth in the first place!  “Would you prefer we procreated via eggs?” he managed to ask then screamed with laughter when Severus nodded decisive agreement.

Reluctantly, Severus smiled, realising he was taking a very silly stance, but he did like the eggs idea, very efficient.  He summoned a house-elf to bring Lucius a drink of water for his hiccoughs and a handkerchief for his streaming eyes before rising to saunter into the bathroom.  He was half way through showering when Lucius slid in behind him and wrapped his arms around Severus’ waist.  Smiling, Severus leaned back and gave Lucius better access to his neck and shoulder, allowing him to nibble on the flesh and send shivers down his spine.

“You were very brave, dealing with Madame Crabbe,” Lucius concluded teasingly, then changed tack completely.  “So, when are you seeing the Dark Lord next?  You had dinner with him last week, didn’t you?”

“Yes, your father and I dined at the Gentlemen’s Club with him after a meeting.  I think they are going to nominate me for membership which would be funny.  Still the food’s quite good there and they have a very acceptable scotch at the bar.”

Lucius pursed his lips, then nibbled a bit harder, making Severus squeak.  “I was just checking to see if you were still alive and breathing.  The Gentlemen’s Club is so bloody stuffy, Severo, you must have felt like a little kid amongst all those old grey beards.”

Severus giggled.  “You should have seen their faces when I took my hood down and they actually saw my face.  The new doorman nearly had a heart attack.  I think if I hadn’t been with Lord Malfoy, they would have refused me entry.  Oh come on, Luc, I’m notorious, nearly as notorious as you but not in a good way.  The Establishment hates that I have refused to uphold the Family and have virtually turned my back on tradition to be with you.  The only reason they didn’t throw me out was the company I was keeping.”  He turned to stare down on Lucius, a cynical smile on his lips.  “I would say they were speculating on which one of the powerful men I was with was actually bedding me, or was it both.”

“Severus!”  Lucius yelped in outrage, drawing back then pausing thoughtfully.  “It would have to be the Dark Lord; my father doesn’t go in for that sort of thing.”

“Lucius!” Severus said scandalised then grinned.  “How do you know?  About your father, I mean?”

Lucius merely rolled his eyes and Severus sniggered.

 

oo0oo

_Set-backs and Failures_

Lord Voldemort was in a foul mood, shooting curses at anyone who got in his way, physically kicking out at the bodies strewn around the main street.  Karkaroff and Dolohov had both been captured and sent to Azkaban in an aborted raid the week before.  Unfortunately, there was no time to try and get them out again as a second raid two days later had resulted in Aurors killing both Rosier and Wilkes, although that bastard Moody had suffered a few nasty injuries before Rosier went down!  This raid had gone quite badly too, four Death Eaters of the inner Cadre were dead and ten others injured.  He had thought it was that traitor Black’s fault but even hunting him down and tearing him slowly apart had not stopped the information haemorrhaging out and into Auror ears.  There had to be another traitor deep in the heart of the party.  Fearing this, Lord Voldemort had returned from Europe early to take complete charge of his people once again, abandoning his studies reluctantly.

Severus knelt in the dirt and checked another pulse, quickly casting a preservation charm over the woman he had found alive.  Pulling yet another potions bottle from the inner recesses of his cloak, he gave her a few drops of the thick, oily substance that made her cough but at least she began to breathe a little easier.  A few paces away, a small child lay twisted and still, a thin trickle of blood running down his forehead.  Moving over to him, Severus, checked his pulse and gave him some of the thick potion too, the response not as fast or as positive as the woman’s.

“What are you doing, you idiot?  We don’t have time to waste on bloody Muggles!” someone snapped furiously, grabbing his shoulder and dragging him to his feet.  “The Aurors will be here soon and then the shit will hit the fan!  Come on!  With a bit of luck this lot will be blamed on the werewolves again.”

“Merlin Forbid they find out the Death Eaters are a bunch of useless bastards, humm?” Severus snarled and snorted at the man’s outrage.  He didn’t know who the man was but he was obviously not of very high rank.

“What would you know?  Are you slated for the raid on Rillthorpe in Devon next week?  No, of course you aren’t, that will have only us real Death Eaters in charge, not this mixed bunch of incompetents and trainee wannabies.”

Severus snorted again and pushed the man’s hand off his shoulder only to freeze as the man turned around and cast _Avada Kadavra_ on both the woman and the child he had just healed.  Willing himself not to betray his outrage, Severus shrugged and moved on, glancing around to see where Lord Voldemort had gone.  He was at the far side of the village square, his wand upraised as Severus dashed over.

“ _Mors Mordre_ ,” he bellowed, the green skull and snake billowing over the burning village.

Severus nodded to his Lord and both Apparated almost instantaneously, both men appearing on Severus’ hearthrug at his flat in London.  Surprised, Severus bowed low and transfigured his Death Eater robes back into his usual cloak, taking his Lord’s cloak and banishing them to the hallway before summoning his elf and requesting a filled ice bucket.  Walking to the sideboard, he poured two tumblers of Firewhisky and added ice while the Lord threw himself into the chair by the fire and cupped his chin in his hand.  Offering the drink Severus waited until the Lord had approved it before sitting opposite and sipping from his own glass.

“Why can’t they get it right?” Lord Voldemort snarled angrily, exploding a small vial on the mantelshelf in temper.  “I give them clear cut and explicit orders but do they follow them?  No, they do not!”  Another knick-knack exploded and the rest of the detritus on the mantelshelf rattled ominously.  “I said very specifically that I wanted Randolph Morgalaine and his family alive and conscious, that was the whole purpose of the raid, to take them alive and take them back for a ritual, but do they listen?  A bloody shambles!  All I have left is one old man and a girl of perhaps seven who is about as much use as a sore thumb.”  The man jumped up to pace the hearthrug in short, angry steps.  “What were your thoughts on the raid, my Severus?”

“Too many people for a surgical removal, too many people keen to make a name for themselves and earn 'good-boy points' for their efficiency and energetic performance.”  Severus sipped his drink and sighed.  “I had two of the Muggles almost healed up when someone Avada-ed them, quite a bloody nuisance and no, I don’t know who he was, just another masked Death Eater.”

“’Good-boy points’?” Lord Voldemort repeated and laughed harshly, nodding his head.  “Yes, I see what you mean, pat on the head and say ‘good boy’, as if training a dog.  Yes, yes, your insight does you credit, my Severus.  There will be a cadre meeting on Wednesday evening in the cemetery at Rippon and I would like you there.  Meet me at the gate at seven in uniform.”

“Your will, my Lord,” Severus agreed unhesitatingly.

Lord Voldemort nodded and reached out to ruffle his hair before playfully waggling his glass.  “Has the bottle gone dry?”

“No, my Lord, there’s still an inch or two in the bottom.”  Severus smiled crookedly and pushed the strands straight again as he rose to pour.

 

oo0oo

_The Dark Lord’s Wrath_

Lucius and Severus Apparated into the Rippon cemetery at the agreed time of ten to seven on Wednesday evening.  They arrived at the Muggle gates together and prepared to wait for their Lord.  The cemetery was huge, the Wizarding section deep in the heart of the city of the dead, protected by the array of Muggle graves.  Lucius was reasonably sure the meeting would take place in the Muggle section as the wizarding section had many alarms and intruder charms on it, too many to be disabled easily.  Severus didn’t care, he just hoped it didn’t take too long as he had a potions examination the next day which he wanted to prepare for, not that it needed much preparation, but it was the first test towards his Honorarium.

Lord Voldemort arrived with five other people in tow at exactly seven o’clock.  Severus recognised Lestrange by his height, Crabbe and Goyle by their height and width, but the rest were unknown as he and Lucius bowed respectfully.  Voldemort signalled them to fall into step and the seven-strong retinue followed their lord towards the older part of the Muggle Cemetery.

There was already a crowd gathered between the weathered stone monuments and marble headstones covered in old moss and lichen.  When their Lord appeared, the fifty or so robed and masked Death Eaters fell to their knees and bowed down, foreheads touching the soil.  Severus had never seen any other group of Death Eaters do such a thing, but there was no way to speak to Lucius who had moved to the far end of the high cadre row that fanned out behind Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord began by giving a speech outlining the basic ideas that wizards were superior and the more pure the blood, the better a wizard was.  He restated that half-bloods and Mudbloods should be kept in their place which was firmly under the heel of ‘real’ wizards or buried somewhere in this venue they found themselves visiting this evening.  That brought a laugh from the crowd as it was supposed to.  Gradually, however, the tenor of the speech became more harsh and accusatory as Lord Voldemort outlined the utter disaster the raid he had planned for Methton Minor had become.

“Muggles are our rightful property, to be used and disposed of as we see fit.  But sometimes, just sometimes, one of them has something unique and irreplaceable, something that the Muggle was born for, bred for and has to be used in just the right way to die for.  Randolph Morgalaine was one such unique individual, one of a kind, the pinnacle of many years of careful breeding and nurturing.  He was to be the centrepiece of a ritual long in the planning and designing, a key to unlock one of the Secrets of the Universe.  Did the raid bring this so very important key to me so I could unlock my secret?”  The Dark Lord dropped his voice until he was speaking so quietly every ear had to strain to hear him, every eye strained to see him in the gloom, then suddenly he rose to his full height flinging his arms wide.  “NO!” he screamed.  “Some utter, unspeakable fool killed him and all his family so that even the brood stock was wiped out to no avail!”

There was a blast of magic that destroyed twelve graves, sending coffins, bones and rotting cloth showering over the assembly.  Quite a number of Death Eaters fell to their knees again; seven others were suddenly dragged forward by an unseen force and spread eagled before the crowd, lashed to an invisible and unbreakable frame.  Voldemort stalked around them, waving a hand in their direction.  “These idiots, these despicable, brainless fools still bear traces of that blood on their hands and in their souls, enough so that they can answer for their crimes!  _Crucio_!”

All seven writhed and screamed, the curse bearing down on them relentlessly until one by one they stopped screaming but still writhed in torment.  Finally, the curse was lifted, four of the seven sagging limply against the invisible bonds.  The sixth had not moved for at least five minutes and the seventh was giggling inanely, unable to distinguish between pleasure and pain.  Severus had to admit he was fascinated by the differing reactions to exactly the same thing, but he was not given time to study as the Lord strode back to the centre of the clearing, glaring at the kneeling ranks accusingly.

“This is the price of failure; this is the cost of uncontrolled action.  When I say I want someone brought to me alive then I mean _alive_ , not a bleeding and hacked-up corpse.  Do we begin to understand one another?” he queried in a silky voice that carried to every member of the crowd.  “I am asking that the people I contacted earlier stay after the meeting, the rest of you may leave immediately.”

There was a concerted rush to leave the cemetery, only ten people left standing in a huddle before the Lord.  Of those ten, six were on their knees, the other four crouched ready to either stand up or fall down and worship, whatever was asked of them.  Voldemort smiled benignly, motioning them to stand and come forward once the crowd had dispersed.  “My faithful few, I have specifically asked that you ten serve me in the capacity of hunters and collectors, so to speak.  Fortunately for all, I have a second family of keys in reserve, one of which will be ready for the ritual at the end of April.  I want you to go to the village of Rillthorpe in Devon and bring me Maureen O’Grady, whole and hale, with not a scratch on her.  I do not want any member of her family hurt in any way and I want her delivered to me on the first day of May.  Does everyone understand the orders?  Would any of you like me to repeat them?  Very well.  Do you all understand the penalty for failure?  Good, very good.  Now, how will you recognise the person Maureen O’Grady?”

There was a collective scratching of the head, then someone dropped to their knees.  “My Lord, pardon our ignorance, but we do not know, please, give us a sign, a picture, a description, something.”

“Well done again, you are brave, my trusted Death Eater.  Maureen O’Grady is five years old, has red hair and blue eyes.  Her parents are Mary and Patrick O’Grady of the Mill House in Rillthorpe.  She has two sisters so be careful you get the right child,” the Lord admonished in playful tones before dismissing the group with a blessing and a promise to meet again one week before the raid was to take place.  The group bowed and scraped, Apparating away while the Lord watched them go with a faint smile that turned to contempt as soon as they were out of sight.

“My Lord, I do not want to question your decisions but was that wise, to put such an important mission in the hands of such incompetents as those?” Avery, probably one of the oldest Death Eaters in the group said softly.

Lord Voldemort smiled enigmatically at the man and slung an arm around his shoulders companionably.  “Sometimes you need to test the temper of a group, see if they are capable of carrying out orders without messing up the simplest of tasks.  This will be that test.”

“My Lord is very wise,” Avery said in amusement.  “Forgive my doubt and ignorance, you are always wiser than I.”

“Yes, I know,” Lord Voldemort said starkly as he gathered the group around him again.  “To Targscran,” he murmured and Apparated.

Severus caught Lucius’ eye and shrugged in puzzlement.  What or where was Targscran?  Lucius smiled enigmatically and made his way over, putting a hand on Severus’ arm and cautioning him that they were about to Apparate.  Severus had no time to protest before he was dragged away from his place in the world and slapped down in another, very different place.  It was a Great Hall, in the pattern of Snape Hall, long rows of columns holding up a vaulted roof.  For a moment Severus wondered if he was back in the venue of his tormented youth but then various differences showed themselves, no tables at the sides of the room, no Snape banners or streamers on the walls and no suits of armour standing in the alcoves.  He shuddered but allowed himself to relax as the sense of his surroundings finally filtered into his mind.

Food and drink appeared, trays brought around by elves as the Death Eaters looked around themselves in either curiosity or indifference.  Lucius, who had obviously been here before, smiled at Severus and dragged him over to where Crabbe and Goyle were gathering up a plate of edibles each.  Goyle glared at the intruder menacingly but Crabbe smiled almost benignly and offered Severus a plate too.

“Thank you for looking after Lucielle the other day,” he said with a nod of appreciation.  “She said you got everything sorted out very quickly, quicker than most wizards manage.”

“She seemed to be in some pain so it was expedient,” Severus said with a shrug.  “I was informed that the child was a boy.”

“Yes, he is beautiful…!”  Crabbe was off; rhapsodising about his new son until Severus thought a silencing hex might be the only way to shut him up!

Fortunately for both their peace of minds, the Dark Lord rose to make a speech to the small group, distracting the new father before he could pull out pictures of his very uninteresting offspring.

 

oo0oo

_The Sacrifice_

Maureen O’Grady was small, pale and terrified as she stood shivering on the barren flagstones where the man in black had dropped her.  Other scary men in masks were standing around looking on as the tallest one made a speech which buzzed over her head without meaning.  Her mother had told her not to speak to strange men but no one told her not to talk to strange women who said they were a friend of her mother’s.  It wasn’t until the lady picked her up and laughed that Maureen realised something might be wrong.  By the time she screamed they had already Portkeyed out of the village and out to the hills.

The Death Eaters were gathered at Targscran again, the inner cadre assembled by order of the Dark Lord.  Severus stood with both Lucius and Narcissa on their Lord’s right, waiting for the next move.  No one knew what the Dark Lord planned at this meeting; he had given absolutely no hint, only an insistence that everyone who was anyone attend, or else!  Only Marta Goyle was missing having been taken to St Mungo’s that afternoon, although Goyle was there, leaving his new baby behind.

The Muggle girl-child was shivering, dressed only in a white shirt that barely covered her backside, one bare foot rubbing against a skinny shin, arms wrapped around herself for warmth.  As Lord Voldemort finished his speech, magic grasped the child and spread-eagled her on the ground.  Her skimpy shirt was ripped away and she screamed in high pitched terror as the tall demon faced man approached.  He ignored her as he began to scribe lines and glyphs on the stone until she was surrounded by diagrams.  Finally, the Dark Lord knelt on one knee and began to chant, his wand first becoming a knife to draw the child’s blood, then cut off a lock of her hair.  The wailing was becoming louder, hiding some of the Lord’s words but Severus was lost very deeply in a hideous memory.  He didn’t need the sound.

He was six years old again, kneeling on one knee, using a genuine golden Kris to open the neck vein of a simulacrum and cut off a lock of his hair.  The chalice he dropped his hair and blood into was a plain metal goblet; not the alabaster and gold one the Lord used.  The words came to his tongue without thought, rolling off in time to the Lord’s chant, the music his grandmother played to keep him in time swelled in the background as the child’s beating heart was lifted from her chest and held aloft before sliding into the cup too.  The magic built in a spiral, making robes and hair fly as _It_ was called.  The Elemental was called to the Blood Rite, the glyphs that made up its name keeping it confined within the diagram’s limiting lines.  Lastly, the Lord spoke the Binding Words and the body of the child writhed, spitting its poison while everyone stepped back.

Lord Voldemort used his Binding to ask the Lower Caverns Elemental to empower the blood offering with concentrated magic to be used in a further Rite at a later date.  The Elemental fought hard but finally, grudgingly agreed to take the girl’s heart and soul in exchange for the powerful potion the Lord demanded.  Voldemort sent the chalice into the circle by magic alone and laughed when the Elemental howled its disappointment that he did not step over the boundary.  At last it did what it had agreed to, changing the gold and alabaster chalice to a blackened granite cup of pure magic held in stasis by a crystal lid.  Lord Voldemort bowed his thanks, again careful to stay away from the boundary and causing the Lower Caverns Elemental to hiss its disappointment as he prepared to sent it back to the nether regions from where it had come.

Severus stood frozen on the spot, knowing the next few seconds were critical to the ritual and praying the Lord got it right.  This was where Severus had failed time and again, where the worst of the damage his Grandmother inflicted on him happened.  Two syllables were all that stood between success and disaster, one tiny consonant that was so easily missed out.  Something in Severus howled in silent fear, the music played on and the Elemental slowly left the child.  Lord Voldemort turned with the air of a conqueror, exultation in every line until he saw the look on Severus’ face.

“Did you think I would fail, my Severus?” he crowed aloud, striding over to place his hands on the younger man’s shoulders before looking around the cadre of his faithful who were all stunned and awestricken at his triumph.  “I have studied long and hard, and I have finally raised a Lower Caverns Elemental!  It has given me what I want and I am ready to take the World.”

“He gave you what you want but he has not gone away,” Severus whispered carefully, forcing his mouth to move against his utter fear.  The words unlocked his muscles and he grabbed his Lord’s wrists, then quickly changed his grip to cup a hand around his face, holding his head and forcing him to cast _Legilimens_ while throwing images at him as hard as he could.  To those around it looked as if he was congratulating the Lord in a very personal way, but the Lord could hear him and see the images he sent.  “You mispronounced ‘Douwen’ and said ‘Douen’ which negates the Banishing ritual.  The Elemental is still in the girl, waiting.”

A shudder of cold fear coursed down Lord Voldemort’s back.  Could this strange and very intelligent boy be right?  It was Severus’ strange story and upbringing that had pointed the new area of study he could pursue to garner even more power.  He had witnessed the boy become a semi-demon himself when set to protect the Malfoy girl in a Muggle park.  He was more than willing to accept Severus’ expertise in the area, having seen inside his mind on a number of occasions.  Lord Voldemort shivered again and nodded his acceptance of the warning.  “Do you know how to fix it?” he asked equally quietly.

“Yesss, I – I remember how.  Will you let me guide you?”

“Yes, my Severus, I trust you.”

Severus bowed and let go, turning the man by his shoulders and stepping behind him.  Together they approached the girl and both knelt in synchronisation, raising their left hand to make the first of the box sides from pure magic.  It was hard for Severus to take his Grandmother’s part, hissing and spitting the High Court language, making the gestures, forcing the Lord to make those same gestures and say the words a split second after him as an echo.  They were half way through making the box when the Elemental stirred and made his first move to prevent the box spell from being completed.  If the box was completed then a vortex would come into being, strong enough to suck even a Lower Caverns Elemental’s life force out into the void.  The Lower Caverns Elemental then had to make the choice of going back to the elemental regions or being utterly destroyed.  Most simply returned to whence they came.

It roared, one small girl’s hand growing large and clawed, scaled skin tiding down her arm as it lashed out at the Lord’s face then changed its target when it realised the one in front was a puppet.  Severus never moved as his face was opened from cheekbone to chin, the words never faltering as the fourth side of the box materialised.  Lord Voldemort fed more power to his controller as the chant to secure the fifth side of the box began.  The Lower Caverns Elemental thrashed and fought now as it was forced to choose, be forced down, back out of the flesh or up into the empty vortex contained in the box above.  The choice was made and it fled the world of foolish men, choosing to go back where it came from rather than face oblivion in the vortex the wizards conjured.

Both Severus and Lord Voldemort made the final effort to Banish the vortex then slumped against each other for a moment before Severus straightened and drew his wand.  With a practiced flick, he shrank the child and changed her into a small brown, very dead rabbit.  Pulling a bottle from an inner pocket, he sprinkled the rabbit corpse with potion and watched in satisfaction as it smoked and blackened then fell into fine ash to be blown away completely.

“You know, I don’t think I will be eating roasted rabbit for a very long time,” Lord Voldemort said thoughtfully, rising carefully and helping Severus up too.

“Yes, the ending of this particular ritual does tend to take away your taste for meats.  It’s worse if you leave the corpse human while destroying it,” Severus remarked grimly, hiding his glare and disapproval behind his stony mask as he swallowed a potion and healed his own face, careful to clean any Elemental taint from the gash.

The Lord was not fooled.  He and Severus would be having a little chat in the near future and it wouldn’t be all about failure, he decided as the others came hurrying over to bow and scrape and offer their congratulations for a fantastic piece of ritual magic that not many wizards could accomplish these days.  In fact, from Lord Voldemort’s point of view there was one other wizard capable of the magic that he had just used and he was a force to be reckoned with.  However, Severus was his man and was owed an explanation for the mistake he made, he was somewhat worried by that prospect too.

 

oo0oo

_Cleaning up the Fallout_

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be part of the Great Working,” Lucius complained when they were alone in the corridor outside the Heir’s suite at Malfoy Manor.

Severus snorted in disgust.  “Do you remember a few years ago when you told me not to take the Lord to task but to work around little problems?  Yes, well that – FUCKING IDIOT – nearly let a Lower Caverns Elemental loose in the world without any controls whatsoever!  He opened a portal and didn’t seal it after him.  He made an error and _didn’t even notice_!  Merlin forefend, Lucius, you have no idea how close to death we all came this evening, all of us and probably half the population of the British Isles.  I nearly shit myself and for once in my life I was so glad my grandmother believed in making me parrot perfectly before she stopped beating on me.  It was all that stood between us and the end of the world as we know it.  So _don’t_ you complain and whine to me about being left out!”

He strode away, leaving Lucius with his mouth hanging open in the middle of the hallway.

“Did I hear Severus _shouting_?” Narcissa asked with an interested gleam in her eye.  The two men rarely had a cross word it seemed and any sign of a rift was always welcome.

“Humm, oh, yes, he was a little upset by the Ritual, reminded him of his grandmother,” Lucius murmured as he entered the suite and closed the door.  Severus would be answering some hard questions in the morning.

 


	15. Chapter 15: In the Name of Malfoy

15 - In the Name of Malfoy

 

 

Narcissa sighed and squirmed against the cushions of the leather lounge, restlessness surging through her.  She noticed that there was a dead leaf on a plant in the conservatory and rose awkwardly to waddle out to the covered garden.  It was quite hot in the conservatory, the louvers obviously not adjusted properly.  Raising her wand, she tried to adjust the glass but it refused to respond to her magic.  Angrily stamping her foot, she called a house-elf to do the job but even that did not work.  Searching though the pockets of her very voluminous smock, she found the bell Lucius had given her and gave it a sharp ring.

A house-elf appeared immediately and hurried to do her bidding but it didn’t help.  She was not appeased by its abasement of itself and snarled impotently as it disappeared again with a pop.  Her magic had not functioned properly for weeks in the last stage of her pregnancy and she was not happy.  Even as the petulant thought worked its way into her consciousness, she noticed there was a book out of place in the small bookcase Lucius had brought into the family sitting room to hold Severus’ multitude of tomes.  Growling under her breath, she stormed into the sitting room and began to rearrange the damned dusty and tattered-looking works into alphabetical order but then they still looked untidy so she put them into size order which looked so much better.

Pleased, she groaned as her back twinged from bending over the shelf then spun on a heel and surveyed the area with a pleased eye.  It was clean and tidy and neat so she wandered out into the dining room and polished a small finger mark off the dining table, wondering why the house-elves did not pick up on these tiny details.  That was what house-elves and housekeepers were for, wasn’t it?  Immediately she rang for Madame Johnson and tapped her foot impatiently until the older woman appeared at the doorway, her apron as neat and as starched as ever.

“Have you seen this place?” Narcissa demanded as soon as the woman caught her breath.  “Finger marks, dead leaves, flat cushions, books all untidy, it’s as if no one cares any more!”  To both their chagrin, Narcissa burst into tears and collapsed on the floor sobbing her heart out.  “I feel terrible,” she moaned as Madame Johnson hurried to her side.”

“There, there, dearie,” the older woman clucked sympathetically.  “Is your back sore and are you feeling all out of sorts, sick in the stomach and sort of squirmy in the lower regions?  Now you just sit there in that comfy chair and let me put your feet up for you.  I’ll just get Suzy Benden, our Medi-witch to come and attend you.  We were wondering when you would start labouring and Suzy thought it would be tomorrow or the next day but there you are, just a tad early, nothing to worry about at all.”

“Are you sure, is the baby coming?  Is it too early?  Should we get Lucius yet?”  Narcissa almost jumped to her feet but her back hurt too much to move just then.

“No, no, everything is as it should be, a bit of nesting, a sore back, restlessness and heaviness, just your body preparing for the blessed event.  And it’s too soon to let men get under our feet, this is women’s business.”  Jolanta Johnson had very strict ideas on who should and who should not be present at the birth of a child, and if she had her way, men would be very much excluded!

Fortunately, Suzy Benden, the Malfoy clinic’s director, arrived on the scene and took over the handling of the first time mother.  Before Narcissa had a chance to panic, she was being prepared for the birth, a very undignified process that made her glad Madame Johnson had stopped her calling Lucius until she was tucked into her bed with a pretty bed jacket draped over her shoulders and a sedative potion making her feel serene and in complete control of the whole event.

 

oo0oo

 

Lucius arrived slightly mussed, the summoning charm having caught him at an inopportune moment with his latest present from the Dark Lord, a wonderfully responsive Muggle youth who screamed satisfyingly when introduced to certain interesting perversions Bella had thought up.  He barely had time to cast a cleaning spell over his robes and shoes before hurrying into the Ushering Suite.  For centuries Malfoys born in the Manor drew their first breath in the Ushering Suite as the traditional birthing room was known.  Ornate heavy hangings and furniture left over from the late 16th century were rather daunting, but Narcissa didn’t seem too intimidated as she sat up against the crisp white linens.  Then Lucius realised her eyes were somewhat glassy and her smile fixed and realised she was potioned up to the eyeballs.

Medi-witch Benden stood with her hands neatly folded over a crisp, white apron, ready to do her duty to the Line of Malfoy, as was her place.  Madame Johnson stood at the other side of the high bed, her thin lips pursed importantly as both bobbed curtseys to the young Master.  Narcissa sketched a vague wave in her husband’s general direction as he bent to kiss her cheek.

“How are you coping, my dear?” he asked softly, managing to clasp one of her hands.

“Much better now,” she said with a slight slur in her voice.

Lucius raised an eyebrow in the Medi-witch’s direction and she smiled nervously.

“Madam was in pain and very nervous until I gave her a slight sedative but she seems to have had quite a reaction to the sedation.”

“She’s completely stoned,” Lucius commented with a smirk.  “This will not affect the child, will it?”

“Oh no, milord, it’s guaranteed not to affect the birth process at all,” the Medi-witch assured him.

“And Severus brewed it?” Lucius pressed, turning his full gaze on the woman who began to sweat a little.

“No-o, milord, it was not brewed by Potions Honorarium Snape; it is from an old family recipe, tried and tested on a long line of Malfoys and their retainers.  I always use it when there is a birth on the estate.”

“Humm, and has it ever affected anyone like this before?” Lucius pursued relentlessly.

The woman was sweating profusely now.  “No-o, milord, not like this,” she was forced to admit uneasily.

“Madame Johnson, call Severus immediately.  If there is anything wrong with my child when it is born, you will truly wish _you_ had never been born, do you understand, Benden?”

Severus and Abraxas arrived almost simultaneously, summoned by a house-elf.  Severus sniffed the potion and assured Lucius that it was not dangerous in any way but that Narcissa was merely susceptible to the extract of sloth alga.  In a couple of hours she would be over the worst of it and ready to give him hell as per usual.  Medi-witch Benden almost fainted when the tension left her master, relief coursing through her.  Lord Malfoy might have been very mellow with his staff these days but he still had a nasty temper, and young Master Malfoy was always dangerous.

Three hours later Lucius was wishing his wife was still under the influence of the sedative.  As it wore off, Narcissa began to feel the labour pains and the discomfort having a baby entailed and she was not happy.  Even worse, she made sure everyone in the room knew she was not happy with the whole undignified procedure to the point of slinging hexes at Lucius’ head.  Fortunately her magic had succumbed to the usual effect of pregnancy and was barely a shadow of its usual power therefore the hexes were no more than a mild tingle instead of deadly.  He watched enviously as both his father and his lover quietly slipped away, unashamedly leaving him to cope with his wife and her temper.

 

oo0oo

 

Some twenty hours later, Narcissa had stopped complaining and simply moaned pitifully as yet another contraction tore though her body.  Medi-witch Benden did not look as confident as she had, and Madame Johnson had begun wringing her hands almost continuously as the long and painful labour continued to be unproductive.  Finally, Lucius stood up and pinned the Medi-witch with a glare.

“This is not right, is it?” he stated rather than asked.

“I-I… no, milord, it is not,” Madame Benden finally admitted fearfully.  “I- I have examined Lady Malfoy but I cannot see anything happening at this point.”

“Your advice?”

“I… there is a spell that can be performed but I-I do not have the power to, to perform it.  I… perhaps if--”

“Madame Johnson, get Severus, he will know what to do,” Lucius declared firmly and the older woman fled unashamedly.

 

oo0oo

 

Severus sat staring into the fire thoughtfully, a small crease drawing his brows down.  He had just finished a rather long and not very felicitous conversation with ‘Mr Riddle’ who was staying at his club.  He had been asked to do something that he really did not want to do and now he had to decide on a course of action to steer himself safely from dangerous waters without endangering anyone else.  He was still pondering on what to do when the door flew open and Madame Johnson stumbled into the room.  She didn’t have to say anything, her expression was enough, and Severus hurried out to the Ushering suite.

Narcissa looked haggard and worn out, not at all pretty or serene as she had almost twenty-four hours earlier.  Even Lucius looked to be at the end of his endurance as he sat by his wife’s side and held her hand comfortingly.  The sight of Severus’ dour face seemed to hearten him a little as the tall thin man slipped into the room.  A wave of a hand indicated the Medi-witch who looked terrified as she studied the couple on the bed.

“What is it?” Severus asked, drawing her frightened gaze.

“Oh, Lord Snape, I need to perform a certain spell to see how the baby is lying and what is going on, er, internally but--”  Her eyes dropped and she studied the floor nervously.

“You don’t have the power,” Severus stated flatly.  “What is involved?”

Lucius looked on nervously as the Medi-witch approached his wife, Severus looming dark and heavy behind her.  The crumpled sheet was moved aside and Narcissa’s gown eased up, leaving her bare to the world.  He was almost amused when Severus made a small moue of distaste but was distracted when the Medi-witch placed her hand on the top of the mound, her wand lightly pressing into the pubic bone.  Severus placed his hand on top of the witch’s and curled his other hand over her wand hand, each finger following the lie of the woman’s.  For a second nothing happened then the Medi-witch gasped, stiffening as a golden haze appeared over Narcissa’s stomach, the outlines of a golden baby forming and growing clearer.  What became blindingly obvious was that the boy-child was upside-down for birth, his backside trying to go first.  There was also something odd in the way his little arms were floating laxly in the mound of his mother’s belly.

The Medi-witch gasped and shook her head, Madame Johnson covering her mouth in horror.

“It’s not a good thing, is it?” Lucius stated more than asked as Severus drew back, taking his power from the woman who slumped then slowly shook her head.

“I’m sorry, milord, you are going to have to take her to St Mungo’s as fast as you can,” she said fearfully.

 

oo0oo

 

The receptionist at St Mungo’s jumped nervously as the Floo roared, green flames licking the ceiling as the tall blond stepped out, a blanket wrapped bundle in his arms.  She was about to make comment when the Floo roared again and a cloud of darkness emerged and glared at her before sweeping off toward the rear precincts of the hospital before she could stop them.  A couple of orderlies jumped out of their way as the two men swept past, all but running toward maternity.

The maternity staff stared with dropped jaws as the door was thrust open and the newcomers glared at them impartially.  Medi-wizard Stromburg straightened immediately when he spied the bundle the second man carried.  “This way,” he called pushing past the pair of young witches and opening an examination room immediately.  In seconds Narcissa was laid on the bed, the blanket unwrapped and a complicated monitoring spell covering her.

“Not good, not good, not good,” he chanted under his breath as he worked hurriedly then pressed his wand against his throat.  Lucius expected _Sonorus_ but instead, his voice sounded hollow and distant as he spoke, ordering theatre two to be readied and the medical team be assembled.

“What are you going to do?” Lucius asked nervously as he was all but shouldered aside.

“I’m sorry, if you want this child to live, I haven’t time to talk to you.  Get the registrar to explain it to you,” he snapped tersely as a pair of wizards broke in with a gurney to trundle the distressed woman away.

Lucius shot Severus a helpless glance as they hurtled away, taking Narcissa with them.  “I think we should find somewhere to wait for a while,” Severus murmured, taking Lucius’ elbow and leading him out into the corridor where a very young witch was waiting for them.

“Mr Stromburg will have to remove the child from its mother without using the natural birth method as the child is weak and so is the mother.  He and the team have performed this procedure many times before and it is usually successful if they get to the mother and child in time.  Now please, have a seat in the waiting room and we’ll call you as soon as we have some news for you both.”

Stunned at this half hopeful, half hopeless recitation, both men plonked down in the nearest chair and stared at each other hopelessly.  “I will kill her,” Lucius said flatly.

“Madame Benden?  No, I don’t think so.  She did the best she could with what has been an exemplary pregnancy.  Not even the specialist you employed foresaw any complications even as late as two days ago.  This is purely bad luck, I’m afraid,” Severus counselled softly.

“What if….  What if the boy dies or Narcissa dies?” Lucius asked in bewildered confusion.

Severus sighed deeply.  “If the child dies then you and Narcissa must create another.  If Narcissa dies and the child lives then you will raise the child to the best of your ability.  If both die then you will have to find another bride and start again.  However, we are not going to borrow trouble.  Do you want a potion to relax you?”

“I… will we have time?  I thought they were going to hurry, you know?”

“They probably are but how fast that hurry is, is yet to be found out.  It might be minutes, or hours, who --”  He broke off as the doors opened and a smiling Medi-witch beckoned them.

“Which one of you is the father?” she asked coyly.  “Well, come along, you have a new child to welcome into the world, Daddy.”

The grin on Lucius’ face was almost painful in its intensity, making Severus grimace and shake his head ruefully.  He grunted as Lucius threw his arms around him and almost broke his ribs with the strength of his hug.  “I have a child, Severo!  I have a son!”

Chuckling, Severus unwound his arms and gave him a push in the direction of the door.  “Looks like it, go and find out what sort of child you have, you idiot,” he encouraged.

The Medi-witch smiled cheerily as the two men separated, beckoning the new father out.  Severus watched them go then pulled his personal shield of ‘unnotice-ability’ around himself and slipped into the hallway.  He cast his senses wide and picked up traces of the spell he had cast over Narcissa when helping Madame Benden.  He had been given certain orders by his Lord and had no choice but to follow and carry them out.

Slipping down the corridor, he found the strongest trace leading from an anonymous door and strode onward.  He almost ran into a pair of young trainee Medi-witches who were gossiping in the corridor, the trolley where the trace was strongest pushed forgotten against the wall.  Moving past as if he had business further down, he slipped around the corner and waited for a few seconds before casting _Confundus_ with a twist of his own.  His luck was holding and he was relieved to see two of the _alembics_ sitting on the trolley.

The two young witches had no idea they were slowed to a crawl as he hurried forward and opened the first _alembic_ that made up part of the trolley.  It was all there, caul, cord and afterbirth, his magical signature fading even as he used his wand to carefully gather up all traces of the bloody mass, transferring it to an _alembic_ he had already prepared.  As soon as it was sealed, he shrank the metal container down to the size of an eggcup and secreted it under a disguising spell in the deepest recesses of his robes.  Opening the second _alembic_ , he cast a quick _Acclaro_ and nodded when he saw it had all the same ingredients and was also from a male birth.  Carefully adding a trace of the spell he had used on Narcissa, he sealed it up again.

Slipping away, he brought the girls back up to speed and waited; lurking in the shadows until the girls broke away, still giggling.  The trainee finally pushed her cart into the holding room and lifted the _alembics_ off the trolley, slotting them in beside four others waiting to be sent to the processing rooms the next morning.  Singing a popular tune under her breath, she stowed the trolley, doused the _lumos_ spell and wandered off again.

Waiting a few minutes, Severus was about to slip into the room when he stopped, an anomaly making the hair on the back of his neck rise nervously.  The afterbirth from a witch’s delivery was a potent and important potions ingredient.  It had to be carefully controlled and protected or both the mother and child who were connected to it could be damaged or even killed by its misuse.  Tom had asked him to acquire the afterbirth of a delivery - meaning the Malfoy delivery - but no matter how much he loved and revered Tom, he would not subject his godson to such a fate!  The fact that the ruse he had set up would subject a different child to that fate was of no consequence to him.

Now, however, something was wrong, out of place in the warded room, beyond the normal protections.  Moving as carefully as a cat, he cast a variant of _Acclaro_ , more subtle and less traceable than the common variety, almost dropping his wand when he saw the result.  Aurors had laid a very neat trap across the room, anyone taking any of the _alembics_ would be allowed to leave but as soon as they crossed the threshold, the alarm spell would sound silently.  The Aurors would follow the culprit and find out where he went who he saw and eventually round up all the thieves and their network.

Pondering the trap, Severus smiled a smirk full of teeth and pulled out a common lead crystal powder box, engorging it to the size of an _alembic_.  Covering his face in a _Confundus_ spell, he selected a corner of his robe to prevent his magical signature from contacting the metal, flipped the lid off the _alembic_ he had doctored earlier and caused it to hover in mid-air as he wandlessly summoned the contents of the _alembic_ and dropped them into his powder box.  Replacing the lid on the _alembic_ without touching it except with his robe corner, he sealed his crystal powder box, shrank it down and slipped it into his pocket carefully.  To completely hide his signature, he cast six spells in quick succession, casting _Confundus_ between each cast then sprinkling a potion over the rest of the room to confuse the scene even more.  Just to add a little more confusion to the room, he released a second potion which caused the room to be filled with a fine powder within a few minutes of his leaving.  The magical signature of first person to walk into the room would be imprinted on every surface in an instant.

As he left the room, he thought he was a movement out of the corner of his eye but the corridor was empty as he hurried back toward the maternity ward where his new Godson waited to meet him.

 

oo0oo

 

Narcissa was asleep, propped up on pillows still looking pale and drawn.  Lucius sat in a chair, a fatuous look on his face as he stared down into the blanket wrapped bundle nestled in his arms.  He glanced up as Severus let himself into the room his smile one never seen on his face before.  Severus was surprised to see tears in his eyes as he returned his gaze to the new scion of the Malfoy line.

“He is just perfect,” Lucius whispered, carefully easing the fold of blanket aside so that Severus could take his first glance at the scrunched up red faced bundle in his arms.

One eyebrow rose and Severus smiled crookedly.  “Have you counted his fingers and toes yet?  And the male parts are all in place, I take it?”

“And fingernails, creases in his hands and feet, eyelashes even, and he has the same birthmark on his thigh as I have.”

“What, that tiny red dot thing?”

“That is a _Malfoy_ tiny red dot thing!” Lucius answered with dignity but could not keep up the facade in the face of his present contentment.  “What are we going to call him, Severus?  Narcissa wants to call him something after the stars and stuff, like most of her family but there are a few family names I want to give him.  We’ve argued back and forth but in the end I think you should have the honour of naming him.  After all, you are going to be his Godfather, as I promised all those months ago.”

“Me?” Severus squeaked in surprise then swallowed hard.  “Can I think about it?”

“Until midnight,” Lucius said graciously.  “However, you know the rules, he must be named within twenty-four hours of his birth and he was born at twelve twenty six am on the fifth of June.”

“I’ll have a name for you by sunset,” Severus promised then cleared his throat nervously.  “Can I hold him?”

Lucius grinned and carefully transferred the bundle of blankets to his lover’s arms, resting a hand on his shoulder as they both studied the small boy in whom the Malfoy line resided.

 

oo0oo

 

The Pensieve was an old one, had been in the Snape family for generations and was well used.  It took but a moment to draw the memory of the first _alembic_ out of his head, leaving only the memory of the second in place.  He then proceeded to remove all memory traces of the careful destruction of the Malfoy placenta, including his distress at losing such a rare and valuable potions ingredient.  Still, he had preserved the cord and caul, making a potent and very private present for his Godson, one that very few people would ever recognise but it would cast a powerful charm over the boy, bringing him luck and protection for the rest of his life.  Those memories went into the Pensieve along with the rest and he was finally ready to meet his Lord and lover at the Wizard’s Club.

Tom smiled broadly and kissed Severus hello as soon as the young man was inside the suite, drawing him to the fireside chairs and seating him carefully.  When they were both comfortable with a glass of firewhiskey and their feet up, he cocked an eyebrow in Severus’ direction.

“So, how did it go?” he asked almost casually but Severus knew his lover’s moods intimately and heard the eager greedy note hidden in the depths.

“I have what you wanted but I must confess, Tom, I am not entirely sure whose I have,” Severus muttered contritely, eyes downcast for a moment.  Before Tom could react, he raised his eyes and invited the wizard into his mind, showing him the memories of his meeting with the girl, his chagrin when he realised there were two of the _alembics_ and he didn’t know which was which then his decision to cast the trace spell on both of them.  Later, when he broke into the _alembic_ room he was even more chagrined to find both marked _alembics_ were from male births.

“I had to make a choice, my Lord, and I can only hope I chose well,” he added contritely as Tom withdrew.

“Oh well, I suppose it will have to do,” Lord Voldemort said flatly then narrowed his eyes at his lover.  “What were the spells on the processing room?  You had to cast rather a lot of magic before you picked up the ingredients, what else did you cast?”

“A lot of _Confundus_ plus some potions to lay a false trail, the place was covered in Auror spells,” Severus answered truthfully, but he wondered how on earth the Lord had known that, then he remembered the odd sense of movement he had had at the scene.  Someone had been spying on him!  “It was almost as if the Aurors were expecting a theft and were going to track the thief back to his or her lair.”

“Humm, interesting hypothesis, did they trace you?”

“Never, my Lord.”  Severus smirked.  “There was a hint of a problem the next morning but no one spoke to us about it and we were there at the crack of dawn.  Abraxas could not wait until a decent hour to sight his Grandson and had us there at seven am of all things.”

Both men laughed at the disgust in Severus’ voice then settled down to a very fine meal, the events forgotten, but Severus had a lot to think about when he finally returned to Malfoy Manor.  The Lord had set a spy on him, him of all people!  The Lord did not trust him perhaps, or was it just a general distrust.  And what did the Lord hope to use the caul and cord for, as well as the placenta?  There were a few rather nasty spells that involved such potent ingredients, but the caster had to contribute a lot of himself to make them work.  That was one of the drawbacks of Blood Magic, the fact that it could backfire on the caster and destroy them instead.  Still puzzling over the turns of events, Severus managed to catch a short nap before going to his latest classes.

 

oo0oo

 

“Draco?  What sort of name is Draco?” Bellatrix demanded, glancing down at the child nestled in her arms.  “Gods, Narcy, not another star system surely?  The boys named after stars in our family don’t seem to do too well.  Sirius is a bloody Gryffindor of all things and Regulus betrayed us all.  Andromeda married a stinking, disgusting Muggle and now you go and name this poor scrap Draco, how could you?”

“I didn’t name him and I didn’t know there was a star called Draco, so there!” Narcissa snapped at her sister as she adjusted the lacy white robes she had chosen to wear to her son’s Naming.  She still had a pot belly that no amount of spells could reduce and she was not comfortable.  “Severus named him and he said it was because he roared like a dragon every time his belly was empty.”

“Severus Snape?  Why on earth would he have a hand in naming him?”

“Because he is my Godson,” Severus said from behind her shoulder, making them both jump.  “It’s almost time for the ceremony, better give him here.”  He held out his hands and Bellatrix almost threw the child at him despite Narcissa’s quick word of caution.  The glare Snape sent her really did have impact and she reeled back on her heels for a second.

Severus ignored her as he allowed Narcissa to drape the elaborate naming gown over his arms and straighten the silk and lace cap the poor child wore.  The robes were heirlooms and had been worn by all the Malfoy children to their Naming for the past three centuries.  Bella shook her head and demanded to know why he was wearing black of all things to a Naming Ceremony.  Severus sighed deeply but did not dignify her with an answer as he stepped out into the hallway and smiled at Lucius who was waiting there for them.  Lucius wore black outer robes and white inner robes after the same pattern as his matrimonial robes, the three of them standing together before the great double doors to the ballroom.

Exactly on three pm the doors were flung open and the guests all turned to watch as the Malfoys brought their child to the Master of Rites to be Named and declared the Heir to the Malfoy fortunes.  Abraxas sat in a great throne-like chair at one side of the dais, incapable of standing all through the ceremony but refusing to miss even a second of it.  He was here to see his grandson Named, to see his Family guaranteed continuance and put his stamp of approval on the proceedings for the entire World to see.

This was the last step in his duty to make sure the Family was safe for another generation and once the ceremony was over, he could bow to his fate with a clear conscience and a lightened heart.  He sighed deeply in satisfaction, the end of his journey in sight and he was so very, very tired.  He hadn’t felt entirely well since coming back from visiting Baby Draco in the hospital.  Mr Truman had taken his temperature on many occasions but it was only a fraction elevated and there did not seem to be anything wrong with his medicines so they simply put it down to excitement.

 

oo0oo

 

The gift opening ceremony began with the lesser gifts from various distant relatives and political connections, business acquaintances and would-be hangers-on.  They were just starting on the more interesting things when a weight landed on Severus’ shoulder and he turned quickly, his wand sliding automatically into his hand.  Zabini stood behind him, an agitated, if not frightened look on his face.

“The Master wants you immediately, in the small parlour,” he murmured in Severus’ ear and began to try and drag the younger man away.

Shrugging off his hand, Severus swept out, ignoring Lucius’ raised eyebrow as he left the ballroom quietly and stalked down the corridor with his long, silent step.  Scratching at the door of the parlour, he was surprised to encounter wards of a foreign build which tried to hold him out but finally crumbled when he impatiently swept them aside.  Opening the door, he slipped into the room and rebuilt the wards with never a thought.  A large fire burned brightly in the fireplace, the torches around the sconces ablaze and yet the place felt cold and uncomfortable as he hurried over to the tall, dark haired figure slumped in the chair nearest the blaze.

“Ah, Severus, you came.”

“Of course, my Lord, what can I do for --”  He broke off as soon as he had a chance to study the man.  “Ah.”  Even as the soft exclamation left his mouth, he was summoning a house-elf which appeared almost instantly and disappeared equally quickly to fetch his potions case from his suite.  Obviously Lord Voldemort had put the ingredients he had brought from the hospital to use and something had gone wrong.  It was a miracle he was still alive, never mind hurt in some way.

Bending forward, Severus asked permission with his eyes and laid two fingers on his lover’s neck, seeking and finding the carotid artery, feeling the pulse that raced and trembled under his fingers.  “Damn,” he murmured as he turned and flung open his box, nimble fingers seeking and discarding bottles, pulling others out as he sent the elf off for a very specific silver crystal goblet and a bottle of soda water of all things.

Straightening, he leaned carefully and used a thumb to pull the Lord’s lower eyelid down, not liking what he saw.  A pinch of this and a drop of that went into the goblet, the soda water stirred in with an oak wood spoon then whisked with a copper beater before the cloudy potion began to fizz furiously.  Someone growled but a single raised finger held the bodyguard aside as Severus knelt and helped his Lord raise his head enough to drink.

“You realise, Ibrim, this doesn’t taste foul.  Are you sure it’s any good?” Lord Voldemort asked, a small smile curling his lip as the young man recoiled in surprise then smiled back tentatively.

“Sorry, Tom, I will try to do better next time,” he temporised, still listening keenly and not liking the underlying rasp in his lover’s breathing, nor the waxy sheen that coated his forehead.  “The potion will dull any pain without making you sleep.  What have you been doing, my Lord; you are not at all well.”

“Spell casting of course,” the Lord murmured, a burbling cough making Severus sit up alertly, his nostrils twitching.

“I smell blood,” he muttered as he reached for the Lord’s robes, opening them swiftly.  There was another gasp from the unseen watchers as the fine, pale blue silk under robes showed a small, but spreading red stain.  Intent, Severus unfolded the rich fabric and flicked open the under shirt’s buttons with the skill of much practice to expose a pale, well defined chest and abdomen, marred by an ugly blue bruise and a small, oozing hole just off mid-centre chest.  “Someone has drawn your heart’s blood and not very skilfully,” Severus remarked in horror as his hands flew to his potions box and he snapped out an order to the house elf for bowls and cloths.

“True,” Lord Voldemort confirmed breathlessly, the wheeze more pronounced with every breath.  “Ironic really, that a skilled wizard is not always a skilled surgeon.  Have I overstepped myself, my dear Ibrim?”

Severus raised his head in surprise then smiled sadly.  “Possibly.  I am afraid I am going to have to hurt you, Tom, badly.  Are you prepared?”

For a moment he felt the Lord seeking his mind then he smiled and nodded, a cough rattling in his chest.  Severus wasted no more time signalling to the silent watchers to help him lift the stricken wizard out of the chair and lay him down on the hearth rug before the fire.  Candles and torches clustered around, shedding as much light on the patient as possible.  Severus took a deep breath then wiped the pale skin with a potion laden cloth, distantly amused to find it was a finely crafted hand towel, not the usual rag used in these situations.  The potion cleaned and sterilised the site then Severus glanced up at his lover almost apologetically before flicking off the small, dark scab.  Someone made a deep, retching sound as heavy clots of dark old blood welled up from the small hole, clumping and quivering with each laboured breath.

Severus murmured a binding spell of his own design and carefully twirled his finger in the mess, drawing it together and lifting it away.  The patient groaned as more of the old clot was pulled sluggishly from his chest and Severus dropped the clot into the waiting bowl before touching his skin again.  His fingertips told him there was still more of the dangerous clotting inside his lord’s chest, and he glanced up apprehensively to where blue eyes studied him with almost clinical detachment.

“Do what you have to, my love,” Tom said, absolving him of any blame.

Nodding, Severus raised a hand, a tiny golden knife flying to his command.  Measuring and testing, he pressed the blade against the flesh, the hiss of pain from the patient making his bodyguards growl but they had heard the quiet exchange and did not move to intercept the boy who crouched over their master.  Bright red flowed, the hot scent making Severus’ nostrils twitch, but he ignored the smell as he carefully and gently inserted his finger into the man’s chest.  Although he moved slowly and gently, the lord cried out as he withdrew his finger, another blackish clot adhering and bubbling out, slopping into the bowl with an almost obscene squelch.

The third clot was smaller but this time it was followed by bright red blood which bubbled and flowed as blood should, coating Severus’ hand almost lovingly.  “Now that is not good,” he murmured as he summoned more potions and more instruments of both gold and silver.  “My Lord, the wall of your heart appears to be leaking, as if punctured and not properly healed up again.  I am going to have to put a healing potion directly onto the wound and it will not be pleasant, I do assure you.”

“And if you don’t?” another voice asked from the gloom outside the circle of light.

“Then he will die,” Severus said flatly.

“And so will you.”

Severus shrugged indifferently.  “That is always the price of failure,” he murmured, making Tom snort softly, amusement mingled with the pain in his almost closed eyes.  “Should I give you a sleeping draft, my Lord?  Or do you prefer to remain awake?”

“Just do it, Severus, I trust you.”

Pausing to take a fortifying breath, Severus swiftly enlarged the hole in his lord’s chest and plunged two fingers in as guides, finding the still beating heart with the unerring skill of a surgeon or a Dark Arts practitioner.  One educated digit located the tiny but deadly tear and both closed together, bracketing the hole.  Using the other hand, Severus slid a copper tube down into the hole and lifted a potion bottle, tiny and glittering, by wandless magic alone.  A single, rainbow hued drop slid over the lip and into the tube, sliding down slowly, slowly until Severus felt it touch the hole in his lover’s heart.  The phoenix tears based potion went instantly to work, sealing and healing the life threatening tear.

As soon as Severus was satisfied that the wound was sealed, he withdrew the tube and slowly began to withdraw his fingers, sending waves of healing magic down his hand to draw the hole he had made together, closing the way until his fingers drew free of the flesh and it healed up instantly, a faint pink seam all there was left to show where he had plunged his hands.  The Lord drew a ragged breath, then another and yet another, each one steadier and deeper than the last.  The watching circle breathed out sighs of relief as the colour fluttered back into their Lord’s face and his glazed eyes regained their usual intelligent sparkle.

Severus sat back on his haunches; his own breath rattling in his lungs as he remembered to breathe himself but each deep drawn breath drew the scent of fresh blood into his nose.  Without thinking, he raised his hand and carefully licked the bright red blood from his palm, his long, narrow tongue lapping it up until someone spat a curse and he froze in horror.  Focussing beyond his bloodied fingers he realised the Lord was watching him intently, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“Do I taste good?”  Lord Voldemort asked with a teasing note in his voice which slightly unfroze the stunned and terrified boy.

“A little salty,” Severus murmured, gathering his wits.  “You should ease back on the condiments,” he added with a slightly more serious note in his voice which made Lord Voldemort laugh.

“Finish your treat, my dear vampire, then we must both prepare to attend the Naming, you know.”

Severus nodded and quickly cleaned his hands by more conventional means, taking the damp towels the house elf brought and wiping the last traces of blood away from his Lord’s skin most carefully.  A waved hand cleaned the blood from his robes and Severus buttoned up the Lord’s undershirt, hiding his flesh from view once again.

Tom allowed the intimate attentions, smiling slightly as the young man rearranged the folds of his under robe and retied his sash with careful attention to detail.  Dressed once again, he was about to move when Severus laid a hand on his chest.  “Let them help you,” he murmured and sat back as Mulciber and Avery stepped forward to carefully ease their master back into the winged chair by the fire.

They stepped back as Severus mixed and handed the Lord yet another goblet of potion, bright yellow and as foul tasting as the usual concoctions potions brewers insisted on pouring into their patients.  As the boy began to withdraw, the Lord held his arm and summoned a towel to gently wipe his chin.  “We don’t want any rumours starting, now do we?” he teased as he removed the slight trace of blood, chuckling as the boy before him blushed fiercely.  It was also a warning to his attendants to keep their mouths shut!  “I own you my life, Severus Ibrim Snape,” he mused softly and bent forward to kiss Severus on the lips.  It was no ritualistic salute but as erotic and as demanding as anything Severus had ever experienced.

Before he could do more than register the intent, the lips were gone, leaving him slightly stunned and off balance, Tom was never demonstrative in front of others as a rule!  Taking a deep breath, he collected his wits quickly and rose too.  “No, Tom, I merely repay what was owed.  You saved my life some two years ago and now I return the favour, that’s all.”  He was pleased to note he sounded unaffected, even if his mind was racing with the possibilities and reasons for the Lord being injured in such a way.  The reasons for such an injury were terrifying in their scope and range and Severus was beginning to wonder just who the man in front of him was, if he was still Tom Riddle or Lord Voldemort or something else again.  Shoving such traitorous thoughts deep into the recesses of his sub-conscious, Severus met his lover’s eyes guilelessly.

Voldemort studied the long, strong face gilded by the firelight then smiled gently.  “If you believe it so,” he conceded, offering his hand and allowing the younger man to ease him to his feet.  When Severus went to step away, he carefully placed his arm around the young man’s shoulders, feeling one of those long, thin arms support him around the waist.  “Shall we go toast the happy parents and child now?” he asked teasingly.  “And later we will arrange to play chess again, perhaps at my club.  They do a rather good dinner.”

If nothing else, Severus was an intelligent man, and the Dark Lord was his lover as well as his friend, or was before he began to dabble in the blackest of black magic.  “Only if we go slowly and you take care not to exhaust yourself,” Severus temporised as he helped his lover from the room.

The Dark Lord laughed.

 

oo0oo

 

“It was a good Naming Ceremony, as these things go,” Lucius mused, still sprawled naked on Severus’ bed.

Severus chuckled and brushed the hair off his forehead to lean over and drop a kiss on his brow.  “And yet here you are, not three days after the event, taking up space in my bed again, how is this?”

Lucius snorted a laugh and rolled over to lick the belly he had been using as a pillow.  “Let’s just say she is out of commission at the moment and leave it at that.”

“You could always buy her a strap-on,” Severus teased and was slapped for his cheek which resulted in a wrestling match that left them both breathless and limp.

“See, this is what I mean, you are fun in bed, and she is so bloody serious!  Honestly, you would think she was reading the moves out of a sex manual for all the enthusiasm she brings to the task in hand.  I thought it was just because she was a virgin when we married, then I thought it might be that she was pregnant.  Lastly I wondered if it was because giving birth made her, well, stretched out and sore but no, here we are nearly eighteen months married, parents of a healthy child and she still acts like a virgin on her wedding night.  And she can’t go down like you can,” he added then grinned wickedly.  “Severus, just a question - no pressure, mind.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed at the silky tone in his lover’s voice, he knew that note too well.  “What?”

“Where did you learn to tie your sash on your formal robes?  It’s a very unusual knot, rather like a Turk’s head actually, and I’ve never seen anyone else ever use it.”

The dark youth stopped to stare at his lover in surprise; this was not the question he had anticipated.  “My house-elf showed me how to tie it; he taught me how to dress and how to look after myself, why?”

“A house-elf?  Well, I never thought of that!”

Severus snorted at his incredulous tone.  “Why?” he reiterated.

Lucius sat up and crossed his legs tailor fashion as he scrutinised his friend most closely.  “It’s just, you see, I couldn’t help noticing that, when you came into the ballroom with Lord Voldemort draped all over you the other night, his sash had your knot holding it and I really never thought you would, er, play with the Dark Lord under my roof.”

For a moment Severus looked stunned then he began to laugh so hard he couldn’t get his breath and ended up with the hiccoughs.  Lucius looked so silly when he was jealous!

 


	16. Chapter 16: Passing on the Trust

16 - Passing on the Trust

 

 

_An Old Man’s Musing_

 

Abraxas sat in the padded wing chair and stared down into the hereditary Malfoy cradle, drinking in the sight of the next generation.  He was tiny, a pale porcelain doll with only the faintest vestiges of the shock of black hair that had first covered his head.  The old man sniggered in remembered amusement at the pandemonium that had caused.  Lucius had been furious, Narcissa utterly mortified when he accused her of dallying with Severus Snape.  ‘Dallying’, the new grandfather had roared in laughter when his son had pulled that word out of his vocabulary in his fury.  ‘Dallying’, it was such an old-fashioned word for such a commonplace accusation.  Still, it had taken both the Medi-wizards and Abraxas own corroboration to assure Lucius that babies born with black hair usually went blond within a few weeks.

And so it proved as the black mop fell out, the new hair came in as fine as silk and white blond, even fairer than Lucius' or Narcissa's.  Abraxas leaned forward and ran his hand gently over the pale fuzz, making the child wriggle and suck furiously at the fist jammed in his mouth.  The poor child probably had more surreptitious paternity charms cast over him than any other child before or since.  Even that atrocious Goyle woman had made an attempt and Abraxas almost laughed aloud when he remembered the shock on her face as Narcissa turned her into a cockroach in her fury.  Fortunately for all, Severus had caught the incensed mother before she stepped on the roach so that had not ended as badly as it could have.

The Dark Lord had come to see the baby too, staring into the cradle with a faintly pained look before raising his eyes to stare at Severus who was on the other side of the carved baby bed.  Abraxas knew something passed between the two powerful wizards at that point, but what he was not a party to.  Later that evening, there had been intense voices in the library, then a flash of curse light, the thump of a body falling followed by the crack of an uncontrolled Disapparition.  Lucius and he had burst into the library to find Severus still writhing in the after-affects of the _Cruciatus_ Curse, a copy of the Daily Prophet tossed on his prone body, with two obituaries circled.

_In loving memory of Galius Morton Temple,_

_Born 5th June, 1980 died 12th June, 1980._

_May flights of Angels take thee to thy rest._

The second obituary was for Galinda Maria Temple, single mother of the predeceased son who died by her own hand on the 12th of June.  Lucius had been puzzled but Abraxas caught the significance immediately and stared at the young man in growing alarm.  Severus merely stared back and slowly, stiffly rose to his feet.

“Some things are worth it,” he muttered as he made his way painfully from the room.

Making Severus Snape Godfather to the child might not have been the most popular decision in the world but there would be no better guardian for the new Malfoy than the total, cunning, calculating and indeed _ruthless_ loyalty of the Snape.  He knew what a Pure-blood owed to his family and his Family, what the responsibility of being a Godfather really meant, not like some of these half-bloods and Mudbloods who were trying to ape their betters.  When you knew a wizard’s parentage, you knew that he knew what was expected of him in certain circumstances and you could rely on that knowledge to guide his actions in all things.  There was no uncertainty, no wondering if you had done the right or wrong thing.

Something else that had begun to worry the more highly placed Death Eaters was their Lord’s growing obsession with his family and his claims to be the heir of Slytherin.  The Lord had been collecting what he called heirlooms, anything he could get his hands on in connection to the Gaunt family and indeed, those rare objects that had come down from the four founders of Hogwarts of all places.  Now, everyone in the wizarding world knew that the two most powerful centres of magic in the British Isles were Hogwarts and Diagon Alley and that the two most pure centres of magic were Glastonbury and Stonehenge.  There had been some speculation that these four places were the actual burial sites of the four founders of Hogwarts but that had been pretty much disproved last century.  Muggles seemed to feel that Canterbury hill was the last resting place of Merlin but that was not so either.  Still, Lord Voldemort seemed to have picked up some bee in his bonnet and it was so peculiar that it worried some of his older followers.

There had been some hints that the Dark Lord was dabbling in Daemonic Rites and the truly black Black Magic.  The rumours had become even more pronounced after the Lord had raised an Elemental during one meeting, using the living heart of a child to bring the creature up from the earth.  When Abraxas demanded an answer from Severus, not having been at the meeting personally, the boy had indeed confirmed that the Lord was playing with the very forces of nature, raising things that were best left well alone.  He had offered a soul for a portion of wild magic then, according to Snape, had almost failed to send the Elemental back where it came from.

There were a number of schools of thought on what was termed ‘Black’ magic and ‘White’ magic.  Some said that Black magic was not really bad or evil; it was just the antithesis of life as humanity knew it.  And that White magic was completely sympathetic to humanity and human life.  Whatever the truth, Abraxas knew without a shadow of a doubt that anyone practising Black magic was going to end up completely corrupted by it.  In fact, the only one he had met that had not succumbed to the intoxicating power Black magic loaned its practitioners, was Severus Snape.  A bloody enigma on legs that man, a truly self-centred man, so centred within himself that he was, well, grey.

Jumping awake, Abraxas laughed at himself, his dosing thoughts leading him to some strange paths.  He glanced down at the letter he was supposed to be spending this quiet time writing and re-dipped the quill as the ink had dried on the nib.  Glancing again at the baby sleeping in his crib, Abraxas tried to imagine what he was to say to the boy when he became a man.  What would he become, how would he react, what advice could a man long dead give to a young man who was on the brink of adulthood, a new generation, brought up between Lucius, Narcissa and Severus.  What a hell of a combination he would be.

Working diligently, Abraxas finished the letter, sanded and sealed it with the Malfoy seal, then tapped the creamy parchment thoughtfully against his teeth.  There were some things in the letter that seemed somewhat blasphemous in the current climate, things that would rebound on Lucius if it fell into the wrong hands.  Still, these were his own thoughts, given freely to the grandson he would never know but hoped would be a better man than either he or his own son.  That was always the hope of any parent, that the next generation would be better than the last.  A sudden flash of inspiration hit him and he called aloud.  There was a pop of house-elf and one of the skinny creatures appeared before him.

“Ah, Dobby, I have a trust for you, one that you must carry out no matter what conflict it causes and above all other considerations.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master, Dobby is always proud to serve Malfoy.”

“No, Dobby, this is not a task that serves Malfoy, it is a trust for the child, young Master Draco, only.  You cannot give this to anyone but Master Draco when he comes of … no, not when he comes of age, he will have too much advice and too little sense, I think.  Humm, let me see, two days after his wedding, you are to give this to Master Draco, do you understand?  If you grow too old to accomplish this trust, you must choose another who will be capable of following my instructions.  This is the most important task you will ever have, to make sure Master Draco gets this letter above and beyond any other task you may be given in the future.  Do you understand?”

The elf looked confused for a few moments, struggling between this new order and the ingrained loyalty that put the whole Malfoy Family first, then he nodded vigorously.  “Dobby understands, this is the most important thing in Dobby’s life and always will be.  Dobby must do everything he can to make sure Master Draco gets this letter, _anything_ at all!”

“That’s the idea, Dobby; now off you go, and remember, two days after his wedding, give it to Master Draco.”

Pleased with himself, Abraxas settled back into the chair for a little nap.

 

oo0oo

 

_The Truth_

 

Lucius watched his father from the corner of his eyes, trying not to be caught watching him.  The old man ate slowly, raising each mouthful with careful attention to the details of lifting.  Lucius could not decide if he was afraid of spilling the forkful onto his robes or if the loaded fork was too heavy for his wasted muscles to lift -successfully.  At his left shoulder, the enigmatic Mr Truman stood ready to assist if the Lord faltered in any way.  It was odd how closely the Muggle-born watched his father, a little too closely Lucius decided after watching the man stare at his father intently over a full week of meals.

Toward the end of the elaborate Sunday dinner the kitchens had prepared, Lucius cast a surreptitious spell which caused the Medi-wizard to jump startled.  Lord Abraxas’ fork clattered to the table, slamming his hand down onto the cloth as if it weighed a ton.  Narcissa jumped at the clatter, a squeak breaking out.  Severus’ eyes flew to the male nurse then narrowed thoughtfully before he cut his eyes to Lucius who was almost frozen on the spot.  His small spell had much more affect than he had expected.

Abraxas did not move even as the Medi-wizard fussed and apologised, a muttered spell cleaning up the mess and a fresh linen napkin unfolding itself over his lap.  He continued to stare at his son accusingly until Lucius had the grace to blush faintly and keep his eyes downcast onto his place.  Narcissa did a magnificent job of ignoring the undercurrents as usual, continuing to chatter and orchestrate the meal like the perfect hostess she was.  Slowly the tension dissipated but never entirely left the room all through the remainder of the uncomfortable meal.

Later, Lucius cornered Severus outside the library and demanded an explanation of what the hell that Mudblood was doing to his father?

“You are a fool, Lucius.  Mr Truman is the only thing that stands between your father and total helplessness.  He bends all his magic to making sure your father has at least the illusion of independence.  Would you prefer he kept his magic to himself and only used his manual skills to spoon-feed your father while he lay in bed unable to rise or walk or do anything for himself?  At least this way, your father can join us at dinner and preserve the illusion while Mr Truman supplies the magical muscle to allow him to lift his fork,” Severus hissed furiously, shaking off the other’s slackening grip.

“But… your potions, surely--”

“Can do no more.  Lucius, the man is dying!  He has lasted longer than any other recorded sufferer of Perryander’s and had been able to function rationally longer too.  Unfortunately, the balance between the poisons and the helpful components of my potions are strained and I cannot make them any stronger or it would kill him immediately.  With Mr Truman lending his magic to compensate for the drain and me feeding him fortifying potions as if he had cornered the market on them, it has spun out his lucid stage for much longer than we expected.  Still, all good things come to an end and unfortunately, Abraxas’ end is fast approaching.”

“How long?”

“We expect a couple of months at the very best.”

“Humm, tell me, Severo, if Mr Truman was not in attendance, how would my father really be?” Lucius asked, staring at the oak door that stood between his father and the hallway.

“Helpless.  As I told you, Mr Truman loans your father the magic to move his body, the ability to reason and think without the disease clouding his mind and fogging his brain.  Without Mr Truman and his input, your father would be a vegetable trapped in a helpless, immovable body, just like your typical Perryander’s sufferer.”

“So, Truman attends all my father’s business meetings and stands there listening to my father’s business and our Family Business, even though he is not really part of the Family or even sworn to the Family or anything?”  Lucius was scandalised!

Severus thought about it then frowned a little.  “Yes, although his medical oath binds him to his patient.”

Lucius shook his head but his expression did not bode well for the hapless Mr Truman.

 

oo0oo

 

_Plans and Schemes_

 

“Lucius, you cannot put off this meeting for ever.  You must go to Paris and see the European board or they are going to take distinct advantage of us,” Abraxas argued heavily at the breakfast table barely a week later.  “It is a good time to introduce Draco to the French holdings and make them acquainted with his magical signature, now isn’t it?  You know it has to be done soon or he will not be recognised properly.  Besides, I am very sure Narcissa would love to see the new season’s fashions first hand.”  He cast a sly glance at where his daughter-in-law was leaning forward eagerly, hoping her husband would heed his father.

“But what about you, Father?  What if--”

“What if I drop down dead while you aren’t watching over me?” Abraxas teased gently, a fond smile for his son.  “Lucius, I am going to die whether you are here or not and I would like to think that you could put Family before family as is your duty as Heir and will be your duty as Head of Family.”

“I….  Yes, Father, I suppose I should go and take the family with me as is my duty to the Family,” Lucius conceded with a faint smile that broadened as his father returned it with fond approval.

The flurry of departure was short and intense as Narcissa tried to pack for her new baby, interfering with the nursemaid who was an experienced witch from the local village.  Narcissa had wanted to employ a professional but Lucius had insisted on a local woman who looked too much the Malfoy for Narcissa’s liking.  While not particularly happy with her, Narcissa had been obliged to accept her husband’s dictates for the moment but she planned to change the woman as soon as she could.  Lucius wisely stayed out of the skirmishes, putting his own affairs in order and gathering up the various parchments he would need upon the Continent with his usual efficiency.  They were ready for departure by the end of the week and left in a flurry of robes, good wishes and admonitions to firecall if Abraxas’ condition changed in any way.  Severus agreed and Abraxas waved, then both men collapsed into opposite chairs in the suddenly silent house.

“Well, that was interesting,” Abraxas finally commented, rolling his head to glance at the young man sprawled out in the opposite chair.

Severus smirked and nodded before rising to help his friend up to his feet.  “I think you should rest now, at least for an hour.  No matter how you feel, you are not exactly well enough to sustain that level of activity for any length of time.”

Abraxas huffed but allowed Severus to help him up, leaning heavily on the thin man’s arm.  “I have my solicitor coming to see me tomorrow and I want you to be in on the meeting, Severus.  It is very important that I take care of this matter as soon as possible and I’m afraid I am going to have to rely on you to carry out my wishes.  Will you help me, my boy?”

“Of course,” Severus agreed immediately then paused.  “If it won’t hurt anyone.”

Abraxas laughed and patted his arm with a thin, claw-like hand.  “Too late, I’ll take your first answer as gospel,” he said cheerfully as he allowed his friend to lead him back to his own ‘nursemaid’.

 

oo0oo

 

Mr. Monalias Trelawney had been Abraxas’ personal Attorney since they had both been eleven-year-olds at Hogwarts together.  While Abraxas had travelled after leaving school, Lias had studied yet they had remained friends even though their life paths had diverged dramatically.  It had been Abraxas’ influence that had gained Lias his initial interview with the Malfoy’s law firm, but Monalias’ own exceptional ability and very high scores that had secured his position.  When Abraxas needed a private solicitor away from the Family Firm, Lias was the man for the job.  He arrived at the appointed time with his entourage in tow, a paralegal witch by the name of Rosalie Pringle who seemed to be a walking encyclopaedia of wizarding law trivia.  She eyed Severus up and down as if inventorying him for the kill, a very predatory light in her eye that made the younger man bridle uncomfortably.

Monalias’ second assistant, Jacob Torrento, was extremely handsome but seemed to be nothing more than a glorified packhorse for the numerous books and scrolls the solicitor had brought with him.  Severus immediately summoned a desk for his armload of library supplies and did his best to ignore the amusement Abraxas was obviously feeling.  Abraxas and Lias shared a moment of knowing amusement as the three young people manoeuvred around them in a very old and very commonplace dance.

“How have you been, my friend?” Monalias asked, settling into a chair and accepting a drink from the house-elf who appeared at his elbow.

“Well, you know how it is, good one day, poorly the next.  Severus has done everything he can but there are limits.  I’m dying, nothing changes that fact, but one thing needs to be taken care of the instant I do die, or rather one person.  Mr Truman - my nurse - needs to be removed from the country as speedily as possible without alerting my son to his going.  Sadly, Truman knows too much of the Family business for Lucius’ comfort and I’m afraid he might try to silence the nurse with more than a mere _Obliviate_ , if you see what I mean.  Truman has only his mother who is a Muggle and his sister who is a Squib so it shouldn’t be too difficult to resettle them in a safe place.  Severus and I have talked about it and feel the man should be relocated to North Africa where Severus’ supervisor has a clinic for Perryander sufferers.  After all, the man knows more about the disease than most, and how to care for a sufferer.”

Trelawney stared into space for a few moments then sighed.  “Have to have a Fidelius Charm on him and his family but who would be the Secret-Keeper?”

“Whomever you appoint, I should think,” Abraxas said playfully.

Rosalie Pringle stopped following Snape with her eyes and snapped to the business at hand.  “There are a couple of precedents for using the Fidelius on non-wizarding folk.  Letitia Montoya cast the charm over a whole colony of Skelkies in the Outer Hebrides in the eighteen hundreds to preserve them from poachers coming down from the Scandinavian countries to hunt.  Rhodin Tonbridge was also rumoured to cast a variant of the charm over a Scottish village that displeased him to make it disappear and reappear at odd intervals, but that is merely a rumour.  It is also rumoured that some American Wizard tried a variant on what he called ‘safe houses’ to preserve Muggle witnesses to various crimes.”  She sat back smugly and smirked at Torrento who was still leafing through one of the tomes he had been charged to carry.

“Thank you, Rosalie, most useful,” Lias said in tolerant tones, rolling his eyes at his friend out of sight of the children.  “It will be rather expensive and may not entirely work, you realise?”

“No matter, we must do something for the fellow, he has been… invaluable to me.  I have set aside a sum of money for him; I think 200,000 Galleons should be enough to keep him comfortable for the next few years.  And I think his Secret-Keeper should be one of your firm’s employees.  You do have a bank of secrets keepers and Unspeakables, don’t you?”

“We do,” Lias confirmed, making a very small gesture in the direction of Torrento.

Abraxas nodded understanding.  “So, when I die, Severus will alert you and you will whisk the Trumans off immediately out of harm’s way, agreed?  Wonderful, then write it up and let’s get it over with, I do tire easily and I really want to have a nice quiet visit with you, Lias, you haven’t come to visit for months and I feel the need of a gossip infusion!”

As soon as the paperwork was drawn up, the three younger people were dismissed; the library door shut and the two older men did not emerge for hours, only house-elves popping in and out to deliver food and drink.

 

oo0oo

 

_Quarantine_

 

“Lord Snape,” the head in the fire called urgently, rousing Severus from his dose over his textbooks.

“Yes, what is it?” he demanded indignantly, glaring at the stranger whom he did not recognise.

“My Lord, I have to ask you about the visitors you had to Malfoy Manor two days ago.  Can you confirm that Monalias Trelawney, Rosalie Pringle and Jacob Torrento indeed visited the Manor two days ago?”

“Why?”

The man in the Medi-wizard’s robes sighed and glared at the sleepy-eyed youth before him.  “My Lord, there has been an outbreak of Dragon Pox and all three of the aforementioned people have been infected or were in contact with someone infected.  Since the incubation period is a week and the victim is most infectious in the three days preceding the outbreak of the spots, I have to assume that anyone who was in contact with the infected could also be infected….”

“Fuck!”

“Succinct, but is it to the point?” the Medi-wizard huffed snidely.

“Yes on both accounts, the three were here and we have a sick man who was also in contact with them….”

“Then shall we consider Malfoy Manor in quarantine?”

“Definitely,” Severus confirmed bitterly as he cut the connection and hurried along to Abraxas’ apartments.

Mr Truman was only just helping Abraxas off with his outer robes when Severus burst in unannounced.  About to blast him for his bad manners, Abraxas stopped and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

“Have either of you ever had the Dragon Pox?” Severus asked without preamble.

Mr Truman nodded slowly.  “When I was five, from a cousin,” he amplified.

“Yes, me too,” Severus answered with a grim smile.  “Abraxas?”

“No, never.”

“Damn!  That’s torn it!  It seems your solicitor and his entourage brought more than parchment and advice with them the other day,” Severus muttered heavily as Truman eased the old man down into his wing chair.  “We are to consider ourselves under quarantine until further notice.”

“We had better close the wards then,” Abraxas muttered, his mind spinning toward planning for the crisis.  “Truman, help me over to the fireplace, Severus, I will need your strength.  Where is my seal ring?  Ah, thank you, Mr Truman.  Ready, Severus, I will have to draw heavily upon your resources, I’m afraid.”

The old man placed the face of his seal against the great Malfoy crest above the fireplace and waited until the soft chime of recognition sounded.  Severus felt his magic flow into the old man, felt the ancient and powerful wards around the estate flare to the command of their Master.  For a second there was a pause then the sparkling spells snapped up into place, sealing the Malfoy estates off from all the rest of the world until further notice.  Before Abraxas was finished, he added a last order to the wards, unusual but not unheard of or unprecedented.  They were to obey Severus Snape if he died before the Heir returned to Malfoy land.  There was a distinct shudder through the ancient protection, but it was impossible not to obey the Lord of Malfoy, no matter how odd the order was.

Abraxas sank back, caught by two strong men who carried him to his bed and laid him down carefully.  “We may lose people but better that than spread the pox all through the land as happened in the 1660s,” the old man commented before he passed out.

“So how are you at diagnosing and treating the Black Death?” Truman asked expressionlessly as Severus measured out a potion and propped the old man up to drop it under his tongue.

“I’ll need to brew a few preventatives and dose everyone on the estate.  Thank Gods Abraxas wanted the visit to be secret so not many people came into contact with the party and house-elves are not affected by the disease, nor do they carry it.  If we are lucky, the main three suspected carriers are in this room and the rest of the staff will not be affected.  Oh damn, Lucius and Narcissa are in Paris and are due home tomorrow.  I had better call them.”

 

oo0oo

 

Lucius was furious when he realised he was locked out of his own home, he was even more furious when Severus refused to ask his father to allow him through the Wards.

“Lucius, you have never had Dragon Pox so you would be most vulnerable to the disease.  How would you feel if you caught it and gave it to Draco or Narcissa?  How would Malfoy Manor fare if you were to die of the disease, which is a very real possibility,” Severus reminded him grimly.  “Luc, your father has caught the Dragon Pox, I’m sorry.”

Lucius stared at his lover with horrified eyes.  “How… how is he?  Will he…?”

“It’s not good news.  I think you will be Head of Family by tomorrow, or the next day,” Severus said heavily, causing the blond in the fire to stagger back, breaking the connection.

As always, the Dragon Pox had targeted the weakest member of the group, Abraxas breaking out a fever and the beginnings of the rosy red rash that were the first signs of infection.  The old man had laughed rustily when Severus had first detected the disease, shrugging fatalistically.  He knew the young man’s softly spoken words were a death sentence and had reminded him of his promise to take care of Mr Truman in the event of his death.  Severus had restated his promise even as his old friend had lapsed into unconsciousness, his breathing growing rasping and broken.  Mr Truman had caught Severus’ eye and shaken his head, there was nothing left to do except wait for the inevitable.

They waited until Abraxas began to moan and thrash weakly then Severus rose decisively.  Glancing over at Mr Truman, he carefully aimed his wand and spoke a spell that was not an Unforgivable but was equally deadly yet a lot kinder.  The old man relaxed, his face taking on a gentler, sweeter expression than it had for many a year as the air in his lungs became soothing sleeping gas.  A very few seconds and it was over, the Head of the Malfoy Family was dead.  Another rare and extremely powerful spell encased the body instantly, making Truman’s hair stand on end as Severus Snape froze time around the bed.

“Come, we have but one hour to get you out of here,” Severus snapped, tossing Floo powder into the fire and calling for Monalias Trelawney.  There was a flutter in the flames and the older man appeared looking somewhat haggard.

“Is he…” he began then shook himself into silence.

“Dragon Pox,” Severus snapped and thrust the nurse through the flames into the older man’s living room.  “Take care of this, I can only give you an hour,” he reiterated.

Truman turned and thrust out his hand, shaking Severus’ firmly.  “Thanks and good luck,” he said softly before hurrying out after the solicitor. 

Truman had known what to expect on the death of his patient, a speedy death himself.  The fact that Abraxas had made provision for him was a bonus he had not expected.  He was even more surprised when Severus Snape had given him all the scrolls of notes on the potions he had brewed to keep Abraxas functioning over the past few years and asked him to take them with him to his next position, which gave Truman a clue as to where he was being shipped off to.

“Yes, good luck to you too, my friend, you’ll need it,” Severus muttered as he closed the connection and began to tidy up the room.  There wasn’t a lot to do, a few bottles to put away, a robe to fold up and lay into a chest, a cushion to replace on the sofa.  He hoped Mr Truman and his family would be safe in Africa, well out of the machinations of pure-blood politics as he settled into the bedside chair and waited for the hour to pass.

 

oo0oo

 

_Long live the ‘King’_

 

Abraxas Malfoy was dead!  The word went around the wizarding world like a clap of thunder.  Lucius Malfoy was Head of Family now, no longer his father’s director but the Lord himself.  The quarantine on the manor had been lifted as Abraxas was the only person to succumb to the disease and Lucius had Flooed in as soon as he was able.  He left Narcissa and the baby in Paris, well away from the pox-ridden shores of England until it was safe again.  Severus met him in the Great Hall and bowed formally as the new Lord entered his ancestral home for the first time since his elevation, house-elves and servants hurrying to make their bows before their new master.  The very house reverberated to the vibrations of the new Master of Malfoy as he entered his domain.  The ancient wards and protections recognised their new Master and realigned themselves to serve him.

“Was it bad?” Lucius murmured in Severus’ ear as he raised him up and kissed his cheek.

“No.  I made sure it was not bad or painful as I promised I would,” Severus assured him equally quietly.

“What do you mean?” Lucius asked, a frown pulling down his eyebrows as he stepped back to study the dark young man before him.

“I promised Abraxas that I would ease his passage from the world so that his end would be easy and kind, and I did just that before the tumours could begin to poison his system any worse than they already had.  He was just beginning to feel the pain when it was ended and he was at peace.”

“You killed him then?” Lucius snapped angrily.

“Yes,” Severus replied flatly.

Shaking his head, Lucius walked away from his friend then turned abruptly.  “I don’t think I want to talk to you just now, Severus, go away.”

Snorting in disgust, Severus bowed facetiously.  “As the Lord of Malfoy commands, so I obey… as I always have,” he snarled and Apparated, the wards opening to let him go without hindrance.

Lucius immediately regretted his outburst but it was too late, Severus had gone to ground, probably in his flat in London but there was too much for Lucius to accomplish and he didn’t have time to try and apologise just then.  He hurried up to his father’s apartments where the funeral director was busily preparing the body to lie in state on the bier already in position in the Great Hall.  At the side of Abraxas’ bed, the Family Funeral regalia sat ready and Lucius took up the curved silver Kris, using the magically sharpened blade to remove a lock of his father’s hair which was carefully laid into the pure crystal box waiting for it.  An equally pure crystal vial was filled with the sluggish blood Lucius drew from a small cut he made in his father’s arm.  A piece of flesh carved from the same withered arm was placed in the final crystal vessel.  The funeral director quickly slid the robe sleeve down over the gaping wound, binding it tightly before preparing to levitate the body.

Lucius bore the ceremonial tray with the three parts of his father down to the Great Hall, conscious of the body floating behind him.  Blocks of marble and onyx were standing near the bier.  They were placed ready for Lucius to create the mourning brazier that would burn for a full seven days before Abraxas was cremated and his ashes interred in the family mausoleum.  As the funeral director arranged the corpse on the bier, Lucius set down his tray and turned to the stone blocks, selecting the golden streaked marble for the funeral brazier.

The spells he spoke were as old as wizard-kind, forming and shaping the marble until it became a dish shaped platter, the Malfoy seal incised into its surface.  Pleased with his spell work, Lucius levitated the brazier to the head of the bier and waited while curls of cedar and sandalwood were added to the kindling in the centre of the dish by an assistant Funeral attendant.  Very ceremoniously Lucius arranged the flesh in the centre of the pile of wood then cast _Incendio_ on the kindling, causing it to blaze brightly, the flames dancing wildly over the surface.  A few strands at a time, he fed the long grey hair into the flames, ignoring the acrid smoke as it drifted around his head.  Blood and magic would sustain the blaze now, keeping it alight and steady for the next seven days while the Family gathered to pay their respects to the late Lord.  Sighing deeply, Lucius turned away and steeled himself to take up the Malfoy Mantle as Lord.

 

oo0oo

 

The funeral was a state affair with all the Family in attendance.  Severus stood at the fringe of the crowd, sad to see his old friend buried, even sadder to suffer the rift with his lover.  Still, he had kept his word to Abraxas, eased his passing, bundled Truman out of the way and there was nothing left for him but to watch over Draco, even if it was to be at a distance.  Turning away from the spectacle of the huge marble mausoleum, he bumped into a body standing too close to him for comfort.  Glancing up, he raised an eyebrow when he saw it was Lucius impeding his path, his expression tightening.

“Father left a letter for me,” Lucius said ruefully.  “He said he had asked a very hard thing of you and he was very sure you would have obeyed his wishes, even at a cost to yourself.  I… I’m sorry, Severus, I should have realised that you were nothing if not faithful to your word.”

“I always keep my promises, Lucius, always,” Severus said softly, and it was a warning.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17: Denied

17 - Denied

 

 

Hogwarts was beautiful in early July, the sun gilding the grey stone walls and adding diamonds to the multitude of mullioned windows.  The lake was a calm mirror reflecting the serene majesty of the old castle.  Tom Riddle stood at the anti-Apparition line and stared up wistfully at the place he had once called home.  Life had been so much easier then, so much simpler.  His early life had been a struggle to survive, to get enough to eat and a bed to sleep in.  There were other children who had been abandoned just like him, left to struggle and find their own way to the truth, a whole orphanage full!

But Tom Riddle had an advantage!  He had been a wizard, one of the chosen few, a new and powerful being who would conquer the world effortlessly.  He vividly remembered the day the tall, regal old man had come and spoken so gently to him, had seen through all his conniving and facade but had still brought him out to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry despite having caught on to his game.  Of course, once the walls of Hogwarts enfolded him he found out he was not unique, not at all.

He had thrived in the new environment then gone on to use his native cunning and wit to track down some of his real family - his mother’s family - and what he had found had astounded him, shocked, surprised and infuriated him.  His mother had come from a very respectable family brought low by circumstances but still an ancient and honourable line.  His father’s breeding had been very good by Muggle standards, such as they were, but his behaviour had betrayed any sense of honour the Muggles might have aspired to.  He was a dog!  Less than a human being, an arrant coward!  And he had paid the price for his cowardice and his betrayal of a good woman, so had the rest of his misbegotten line.

His uncle and grandfather proved to be more liabilities than assets but they had contributed to his growing sense of who he really was.  Parseltongue, what a wonderful gift, inherited from the founder of the family and passed from generation to generation along with the Peverell ring and the locket which had been so basely stolen from his mother in her time of need.  However, he had regained the locket and put it to very good use, but he needed more, a token from each of the Hogwarts founders to complete his great work.

Only one man stood in his way, the same man who had first brought him into the wonderful world of magic, who had begun his education then turned his back, trying to thwart his thirst for knowledge, stem his intelligence, turn him away from his quest and in the final instant, refused to allow him to return to the first place he had felt was home.  Oh, Dumbledore had prated his age, citing it as too young and inexperienced for a teaching position, but Tom knew he had more to offer to every child in the wizarding world than any other wizard since the great Founders had walked the earth.  And still Albus Dumbledore had stopped him; trying to turn him from the correct path to greatness, make him less than he was destined to be, make him mortal and vulnerable and human!

The second time he had gone to Hogwarts to offer his services as a teacher, again Dumbledore had refused to take what was offered, refused to allow him to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts and bring greatness to the British Isles.  Even Durmstrang was sensible enough to see the value of teaching some Dark Arts as well as Defence Against, but not Hogwarts, oh no!  That stubborn, outmoded old man stood squarely in the path of progress and refused to move.

Furious, Tom had made some ill-advised threats and left in a flurry to try other means to satisfy his growing desire for immortality, and yet he knew, at the bottom of his being, that he needed to find the last rare object of the founders.  Oh, it wasn’t anything as overt as the bloody Sword of Gryffindor which everyone and his dog knew was hung in the Headmaster’s office like some sort of battle trophy.  Just why a powerful wizard had needed a sword was beyond Tom’s comprehension.  No, this was so obscure that very few people even realised it still existed.

In a text by the venerated Horden Monisett, reputed to be a close friend of Godric Gryffindor, it mentioned the founder himself, saying he would put aside his favourite cloak pin in his favourite safe place for his grandson to find.  The text went on to say that the pin was never found, the grandson was killed only a short time after Gryffindor’s death and never had a chance to retrieve his grandfather’s gift.  By a dint of very intense research, Tom was very sure that the cloak pin and anything else the founder had thought worthy was still hidden in that safe place which could only be within the walls of Hogwarts.  Only for the lure of that treasure would Tom have ever contemplated returning to the scene of his twice given humiliation.

His rambling thoughts had shortened the journey and his feet had brought him safely to the front doors of the old castle but they refused to yield to his hand when he pressed on the ancient wooden panels.  Surprised, he pushed with all his might, then cast _Alohomora_ then other unlocking spells of greater and greater power but the doors refused to budge.  Angrily, Tom raised a fist and knocked hard but still there was no response.  Pounding and kicking did no good; beating on the ancient wood with his wand turned into a hammer brought no response.  Casting _Sonorous_ and bellowing for attention was equally without response until Tom was red in the face and sweating but no closer to gaining entrance to Hogwarts than he had been when he first arrived at the wooden barrier.

Gasping and swearing, he was about to knock again when the brass-bound door slowly creaked open and a familiar face appeared in the gloom.  Dumbledore looked surprised to see him standing there but smiled a welcome and came out into the sunshine to offer his hand.

“Tom, I was wondering where you were,” Albus greeted with welcoming affability.

“I knocked but no one appeared to hear me,” Tom managed to reply civilly between clenched teeth.

“My dear boy, you should have just come in, you do know the way to my office, don’t you?”

Reining his anger in, Tom nodded curtly and pulled his robe straight before taking a step to follow the Headmaster.

As his foot approached the threshold it hit a solid wall of force and he stumbled ignominiously, unable to cross into the Great Hall.  The very stones of the castle were denying him entrance!  Growling, he tried again but again he was repulsed and turned his eyes to glare at the Headmaster who was standing a few feet inside the entry watching him with a sad and pitying look.  “What have you done, Old Man?” Tom demanded furiously, hand clutching convulsively on his wand, but he did not draw it yet.

Albus Dumbledore shook his head slowly and sadly.  “I fear, Tom, you are not welcome within the halls of Hogwarts anymore.  The castle has refused you entry although I have asked it to allow you to come in.  Hogwarts has a mind and a will of its own, it reads the intent of your heart and refuses you entrance.  You mean the castle harm, Tom, and it knows that.”

“I do not mean to harm the bloody castle at all,” Tom protested but knew he was lying even as the words left his mouth.  If he had his way, he would pull down the stones and blast the foundations to sand and reduce the grounds to a salted wasteland that no one would ever inhabit for a thousand year.

As the thoughts flitted through his mind the great door groaned and suddenly swung shut, slamming in his face.  The flagstones of the courtyard bucked and jumped tossing him down the stairs and rolling him out of the forecourt onto the path that lead up from the gate.  A great wind swept down, tearing and tumbling at him, forcing him to stumble to his feet and all but run to keep from sprawling on his face until he was unceremoniously ejected from the gates which slammed shut with a rusty scream of denial.  Hogwarts had cleansed itself of his malice and made an even bitterer enemy of the man who would be Lord of Britain.

Fear and fury warred for a moment, then Lord Voldemort lost all expression, drawing down his politician’s mask to hide his intent.  So Hogwarts would not yield to his coming, would it not?  Then it would be destroyed and all who took shelter within its walls would be left in torment for as long as there was anyone who remembered the name.  The new enmity was bright and sharp as Lord Voldemort Apparated away, new and bigger plans and schemes already moving through his fertile mind.  He had never experienced wards like those that protected Hogwarts, but he would study them and find a way to blast them out of existence.

There was the new order of magic Severus had showed him, full of interesting and intricate ways to circumvent the conventional learning of England.  He would use that new knowledge to its fullest advantage, and he would conquer and destroy anyone or anything that stood in his way!  The Lord’s schemes were already growing and would soon bear the black fruit of malice and hatred that would be turned on the school as soon as the time was right.

 

oo0oo

 

Lily Apparated home her pockets full of Christmas shopping.  Harry was sound asleep in the sling on her chest, worn out by his visit to Santa Claus in the Muggle shopping centre.  She had decided to have his Santa photo taken to send to her mother and her sister, especially when she received a Santa photo from Petunia showing her son Dudley, who was a month older than Harry, sitting on the red clad Santa’s knee.  He did resemble a cross between a bilious Niffler and a gargoyle, Lily had to own, remembering a comment James had made on seeing the likeness.  Not like Harry who was a small, wiry child with his father’s build and shock of black hair.  Besides, Harry was the most beautiful baby in the world, Lily smiled, and she had been ably seconded and carried by Sirius and Remus.  Peter had tried to abstain but that was more just to tease Sirius into a fine mood, making him tickle Peter until the plump blond had gone into hiccoughs.

Honestly, sometimes she thought those three would complete the job of spoiling Harry totally that James had started on the night Harry had been born.  Three more devoted and doting uncles there never were!  Mind you, if Sirius suggested one more time that Harry would really benefit from a ride on that blasted contraption he called a motorbike, she would hex him into next week!  Smiling fondly, she pulled a tiny package out of her pocket and enlarged it, opening the box and staring down at the cycle boots she had ordered for Sirius.  They were charmed to have the softest soles that were non-slip and were lined with lambs wool for warmth.  There were enough charms on the leather to make it water, snow, mud and fire-proof so even if he managed to set his bike on fire on a glacier in the middle of a rain storm, his boots would protect him from all of it!  He would love them!

For Remus she had bought robes, boring but oh so necessary.  It was true that Remus worked for the Department of Magical Creatures on and off, but the idiot had a habit of buying books with his hard earned cash rather than warm clothes.  He always looked like a ragbag but he was too proud to accept anything but the odd birthday and Christmas gift so James and Lily made the most of it, as did Sirius.  She had bought Remus a full set of winter wool robes with a scarf, gloves and a weatherproof cloak to go over the top.  At least he wouldn’t freeze to death this winter.

For Peter she had found a perfectly splendid cookbook with enough recipes that he could cook a new dish every day for a year and never come to the end.  Peter loved to eat and he was shaping up to be a fantastic cook, studying both Muggle and wizarding techniques.  He often came into her kitchen and tried out the latest recipe he had found or had been given.  He had to stay away from his mother’s kitchen where he was all but banned.  Lily had asked him if he was going to become a chef when they had been in seventh year but he had shaken his head sadly.  His father wanted him to be a clerk at his law firm so that was what Peter was destined for.  Cooking was for sissies and girls!

For their other friends she had spent a pleasant afternoon picking out gifts each would appreciate.  For Frank and Alice and Neville there was a sun-catcher that would guarantee rainbows all through their home in all weather.  For her sister and her husband there was a very nice Carnival glass vase, very Muggle, very expensive and very collectible.  For Dudley there was a stuffed bear, very conventional and safe from ‘freakdom’.

For James and Harry there were so many gifts she knew she had gone overboard, but she had had such fun finding the perfect things she didn’t care.  She had found matching Father and son Quidditch robes, a toy broom and a Nimbus 1500, dress robes and baby dress robes for each of them.  There were books and balls and sweets and knick-knacks enough to give them both hours of unwrapping pleasure.

There was one gift that was small and not very expensive, but it was a present she had agonised long and hard over before buying.  She never knew if her gifts would be accepted until her owl came back, usually with some small gift in return.  Although one day she expected the gift would come back unopened and unaccepted.  This year she had found a book, a Muggle thing printed and bound in miniature format, a book of quotes from famous Muggles, some of which were hilarious.  She never signed the gift tag or even put a name on the wrapping but simply instructed the owl to deliver it to Severus Snape, wherever he might be.  She always received something in return, a small, framed sketch, an unusual length of material, a perfume or lotion in a decorative bottle.

She was about to make tea when James came in and dropped a kiss on her cheek in passing on his way to the bathroom.  As he was completely covered in mud, Lily _Accioed_ the liniment and made sure the tea was laced with brandy.  When James returned from the bathroom, free of mud, he lay down on the sofa and she automatically began to charm the bruises that were already turning a deep, angry purple.

“What happened?” she asked as some of the tension faded from his tight shoulder muscles.

“That complete and utter prat Thorlinson had us dodging Bludgers all afternoon, not two or even four but twelve of the blasted things flying about as if they were possessed.  We were doing okay too until Pertwee and Morganson both avoided the same Bludger and Pertwee crashed into me.  It’s a good thing we were only twenty feet up or it would have been a serious smash up, I can tell you.  As it is, my broom is completely fragged.”

“Oh honestly, James, not again?  That’s the third one in the last six months!” Lily protested in exasperation.  “It’s a good thing your parents left you well off or you would be in trouble.”

“Its funny you should say that, Lily-girl,” James said thoughtfully, rolling over and catching her as she nearly fell off the sofa.  “As we were getting up, Pertwee said something very odd.  He apologised of course then asked if I had enough money to replace my broom.  After all, he said, having a new baby and a new wife tended to be draining on a man’s income and if I needed a little cash advance he knew some people who could set me up for life at very reasonable rates.”

“Sounds like he is a finance broker,” Lily chuckled then sighed when James looked blank.  “Never mind.”

“No, no, he wasn’t trying to break anything, he was trying to sell me on going to a meeting with him to be introduced to some very well-connected pure-bloods who would be delighted to give an up and coming Quidditch star like myself all the financial help I might desire, for a price.”

“Good God, I didn’t think the wizarding world had graduated to the Mafia yet or… it wasn’t to do with Lord Voldemort, was it?” Lily asked, glancing over her shoulder almost reflexively.

“Actually, I think it was.  I told him to go to stuff himself but I wonder if I shouldn’t tell the Order but it seems so vague and trivial.”

“Humm, and maybe You-Know-Who only wants a personal stake in his own Quidditch team so he can kick off his shoes and put his feet up to watch the latest match on the telly on Sunday afternoon,” Lily replied sarcastically, making James laugh.

“Could be, you never know.”  He kissed her cheerfully.  “So, what’s a telly?” he added wickedly.

 

oo0oo

 

“So you will not look after your grandson tonight?” Frank asked in a dangerously quiet voice.

Emily Longbottom crossed her arms defensively.  “Look, Frank, much as I love the little tyke, I do not approve of Alice going back to work when he is still so young.  I didn’t work when you were a baby; I stayed home and looked after you like a mother should!  It’s not as if you need the money, I told you I would provide for you any time you asked.”

Frank glared as the old argument flared again.  “I will not become your pensioner, Mother!  Alice and I are well able to support ourselves even if Alice did not go back to work but we are a team and this is a social engagement not a surveillance detail.  Would it kill you to unbend for a few hours, Mother?”

“I always told you I start as I mean to go on and I do not mean to baby-sit every time it is not convenient for Alice to remember she is a mother and has a family to look after, so no, the rule stays.”

“Very well.  Goodbye, Mother.”  Frank Apparated before Emily could say another word.

The old woman bit her lip and sighed.  Sometimes forcing the younger generation to behave in a manner befitting their breeding was so difficult.  Alice was a good sort of a girl but definitely not of the same class of people as the Longbottoms, and she had refused to listen when Emily tried to hint her into the proper way of doing things so Emily would just have to out-stubborn the girl, that was all there was to it.

“Looks like we take Neville with us tonight,” Frank said shortly as he Apparated into the living room.  “Damn her anyway, she is a stubborn old bat, and no mistake!  She’s still living in the 1880’s instead of the 1980’s.  You know how she carries on, ‘Longbottoms have been on this land since before Merlin and they will still be here after the end of time.  We have a history and a tradition to uphold and you should do as you are told.’”

Alice laughed ruefully, having received the talk and the lecture at least three times in her life, once when she became engaged to Frank, once when she married Frank and once when she gave birth to Neville.  She hadn’t told Frank about the other lecture she had received, the one outlining her duties as a Longbottom bride and her responsibilities as the mother of the new generation.  Still, she knew Emily Longbottom did not approve of her, thought she was a social climber and had married far above herself but she and Frank were happy as long as they didn’t go too close to his ancestral home too often.

“Lily is taking Harry too, said her usual babysitters were all tied up tonight what with moon and Peter has a cooking class so there will be the two babies.  I think Neville is teething so we may not be there too long anyway,” she added meditatively.

Frank nodded and gave her a hug in passing.  “Not to worry, it’s just Uncle Algie’s daughter’s theatre group, it’s probably going to be horrible.”

 

oo0oo

 

The play was truly horrific, poor acting, missed cues and the most appallingly off-key singing Severus had ever heard.  He had tried a muffling charm but somehow the lead soprano had managed to find a note that pierced even that charm’s ability to blunt sound.  Gritting his teeth, he pulled his personal invisibility shield around himself and slipped out of the hall, his passage unmarked.

In the corridor, he glanced both ways then set off to explore the house turned theatre, checking exits and rest rooms, making a note of the various useful hiding places.  The Dark Lord wanted his Death Eaters to either convert or kill most of the people in attendance this evening, why he wasn’t sure but the Lord had commanded and so the loyal followers performed.  He bumped into Macnair who was also checking out the lower floor, exchanged a quick word and continued upstairs to see if there were any surprises up there.

The surprise was more of a shock when he reached the nursery and found not just the baby Goyle but two others too.  One of the strangers was sound asleep, bum in the air; the other was squirming and whimpering on the verge of waking up.  Shaking his head, Severus approached the cot on silent feet and stared down at the child even as the baby awoke and opened big brown eyes to stare up at him curiously.  Even more surprising, the baby grinned showing two very white bottom teeth and some very red gums at the top before his face began to crumple.

“Hush,” Severus told him gently which stopped the little face crumpling but the baby began to chew furiously on his fist, whimpering a little.  “Does your mouth hurt?  My Godson, Draco, is cutting teeth, a rather painful process, I gather.  Show me your mouth, little man.”  Gathering the baby up, Severus attempted to peer into his mouth which caused him to laugh and give a good clear view of swollen gums.  Grumbling, Severus dug out the ointment he had made for Draco’s gums and managed to smear a little onto the child’s mouth before the baby bit down on his finger.  “Bloody hell, that was the one Draco bit the other day too.  Vicious little monsters, aren’t you?” he complained, patting the child’s back and sucking his own abused finger.  “Humm, doesn’t taste too bad either,” he commented on his own potion.

“Are you clucking over a brat?” a voice asked in amusement and Severus whipped around, his wand out in an instant.

Lily Potter leaned on the door frame watching the very tall man interact with the very small child, a smile softening her mouth and adding a soft light to her eyes.  She grinned mischievously when he stiffened and snarled at her but his arms did not tighten on the child and young Master Longbottom continued to goo and chortle at his very strange holder.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Snape demanded in hushed, horrified tones then stared at the second strange child who was still sound asleep.  “Oh, Merlin, is that your brat? Damn it all, Lily, you have to get out of here as soon as possible and take both the babies with you.”

“Why?” Lily asked, coming forward to check on her son before cocking her head inquiringly.

“Do I have to spell it out for you , you stupid bint,” he demanded, thrusting the baby into her arms then picking up young master Potter and all but tossing him into her other arm.  “You won’t be able to Apparate as the wards have already gone up but if you leave in the next five minutes you should be able to slip away.  Here, pinch the child and make him cry, it will give you a perfectly legitimate excuse for leaving.”  Suiting action to words, Severus pinched Longbottom’s leg and made him yelp and burst into tears.

“Damn it, Severus, now he will never shut up.”

“Good, go.  Lily, just go!  Please.”  Severus all but pushed her down the stairs in his haste to bundle her out the door.

“I have to get the Longbottoms and James, Severus, I can’t just leave,” she snapped, putting her head around the ballroom door, the wails from both babies causing heads to turn and the actors on the stage to glare at the interruption.

Fortunately, both the Longbottoms and James were quick to catch the cue and leave their seats to join her at the door.  Alice reached for Neville while James slung an arm around Lily’s shoulders, surprised to feel her trembling.

“What is it?” he asked in worried tones.

“We have to go, now,” Lily insisted, herding the three adults toward the front door.  “Come on, will you!”  She was almost weeping in frustrating, having caught Severus’ edge of fear.

Puzzled but willing, the three of them accompanied her out the front door and as soon as Lily felt the suppression wards lift, she Apparated home, the others following her as soon as they realised she had gone.

“Now what was that all about, Sweetpea?” James asked as he Apparated into the livingroom, the Longbottoms hard on his heels, curiosity shining from their eyes.

Before Lily could say a word, the alarm charms on both Aurors’ wrists chimed an alert.  Frank hurried over to the fire and stuck his head into the flames, calling for Auror headquarters.  A few seconds later, he pulled out and stared at Lily in narrow-eyed calculation.

“It seems there is an attack in progress at Chigwell House, you know, where we were a few minutes ago.  How did you know, Lily?” he asked harshly.

“Severus told me to get you out, especially the children.”

“’Severus’ as in Severus Snape?  What is your connection to Severus Snape?”

“He is my friend, he always has been.  Is that a problem with you, Frank Longbottom?” Lily asked equally narrow-eyed.

Alice glanced down at her son sleeping so trustingly on her chest then across at Harry snuggled up to his mother.  “Is that who was behind you when you brought the children down?” she asked shrewdly.  “I thought I saw someone lurking in the shadows.”

“Neville was crying and he went to see what was wrong.”  Lily stroked Harry’s head gently.  “Severus has a soft spot for babies, although he will not admit it.  When he realised who the children were, he told me to take them and flee before the trouble started.  Look, you idiots, Severus has been instrumental in sending quite a lot of good information over to the Order.  Where do you think some of the intelligence comes from?” She was almost stamping her foot in impatience.

Frank nodded slowly.  “Professor Dumbledore said something of the sort at the last meeting, that not all the Death Eaters were blindly loyal, that some of them followed their conscience, not the party line.  Look, I have to get to work; we are trying to stop the attack so we need every Auror we can get hold of.  Alice, you want in?”

“Lily?  Can you look after Neville?”

“Sure, he can sleep in Harry’s cot tonight,” Lily said heavily.  “Look out for Severus if you can,” she asked quietly.

“If we can,” Alice agreed before the two Aurors Apparated.

James shook his head and enfolded his wife in a close hug.  “You always did have a soft spot for Snivellus, didn’t you?” he commented, kissing her hair.

“Are you angry?”

“No.  I think he paid off a Wizard’s debt this evening.  We’re even now.”  Both sighed deeply.

 

oo0oo

 

Lord Voldemort was furious, snarling and casting _Cruciatus_ indiscriminately over anyone who even came within his line of sight.  It had been a very poor raid.  He had failed to gain access to the people he wanted.  The carefully laid take-over and conversion of the audience at Chigwell House should have given him control of three departments at the Ministry of Magic.  Unfortunately, it had not!  The Head of the Department of Mysteries had suffered a terrible blow to the head when one idiotic Death Eater had been too enthusiastic in casting _Expelliarmus_ and tossed him into a piece of moulding that had caved in his skull.  The man was dead before he hit the floor.

The second target, Lucinda Scurvox, second Speaker to the Wizengamot had somehow managed to escape being taken by jumping out of a window.  Macnair himself had tried to stop her and was now in a satisfactory condition, Severus having treated his broken jaw and mangled left hand.

Their third and least important target, Bramwell Jones had succumbed to the Imperius Curse very smoothly and easily, a willing and almost fawning convert to his cause.  He was part of the Ministry of Education and while not immediately useful, the Dark Lord was sure he would think of something for the man to do in the near future.  In fact, he had a vague idea that was slowly coming together in his head but that would take time.

In the meantime, he had to practise the language Severus had introduced him to.  Lord Voldemort had a plan to complete the splitting of his soul into his Horcruxes, but he still wanted the Founder’s tokens with a greed that would be satisfied by nothing less.  He personally might not be able to get into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry but there were other loyal servants who would willingly do his bidding, it was just a matter of choosing the right one.

 


	18. Chapter 18: Pure-blood Politics

18 - Pure-blood Politics

 

He checked his robes in the mirror, glaring at it when it commented that he looked like an expensively dressed scarecrow.  He knew that, he didn’t have to have some inanimate object rubbing his nose in it.  Still, no one could fault the quality and cut of his robes, if Malfoy had taught him nothing else, it was to recognise and buy the best of everything and anything.

_“After all,” Lucius had commented laughingly one lazy afternoon.  “What would be the point of having all those lovely Snape Galleons all to yourself if you didn’t drop them on worthwhile things?”_

Of course, much as he appreciated Lucius, he had to admit that ‘worthwhile things’ for Malfoys consisted of clothes, food, pleasures, fine wines and other such indulgences.  But in his areas of expertise, Lucius was unbelievably good.  He briefly recalled the first time Lucius had commented on his old fashioned and worn clothes, not unkindly, just a simple statement.

_“Now you are Head of Family, you need to replace a few things, Severo, such as your whole wardrobe.  Never mind, I’ll help you, aren’t I generous?”_

_Snorting, the newly elevated Lord Snape had smirked knowingly but bowed to the older youth’s unchallenged expertise.  “How will you stand the strain of spending all my money?”_

_“It will be a chore but I am sure I am up to it,” Lucius had drawled, grabbing his neck and giving him a slight shake.  “Come on, you repulsive streak of misery, let’s go SHOPPING!”_

Smiling slightly at the memory of their first trip to Malkin’s, Severus picked up his cloak and swirled it over his shoulders.  He looked good in the dark green Lucius had picked out, the robes perfect in every detail; shame the body underneath was so damned pathetic still.  Most long, skinny adolescents filled out by the time they hit twenty but not Severus Snape, oh no!  He had just kept getting taller and skinnier until he didn’t even need a ladder to reach the top shelves of his potions store room!

Oh well, neither Tom nor Lucius wanted him for his looks or his fashion sense.  Actually, since he had married Narcissa, Severus wasn’t sure why Lucius still wanted him.  Still, he didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and even after the birth of their son, both the older Malfoys had been quite willing to let things continue as they always had.  If anything, Severus felt he was more included in the Malfoy household as a buffer between the elder Malfoys and chief babysitter of the younger.

Severus and Narcissa still tended to snipe at each other across the dinner table while Lucius lay back in his chair and smirked.  Severus knew it was only while he was useful to the cause, that he was tolerated in Malfoy Manor by the present Mistress.  One day Narcissa’s jealous and possessive nature would make it impossible for him to continue his affair with Lucius, even though they had been together far longer than the three year old Malfoy marriage.  To that end, Severus had begun to use the London flat that was part of the Snape Family properties more and more, splitting his time between it and Malfoy Manor.  He had found he rather liked being in his own home on his own terms, able to do as he liked when he liked and be answerable to no one at all.  In reality, it was the first time he had been his own master and captain of his own fate in his whole life and it was a liberating feeling.

Snorting in disgust, Severus checked his pockets for the potions he always carried; made sure his wand was present and accounted for, then Apparated out.

 

oo0oo

 

“I suppose that damned vampire will be creeping around, sniffing at your coat tails and smirking at our friends?” Narcissa snapped as she twitched a fold of the latest creation from La Bonne Nuit in Paris into a better fall.  The ice white silk and diamond point embroidery slithered over her elegant figure, which had only been enhanced by her recent pregnancy.  Not that _that_ would ever be happening again!  She had done her duty as a Malfoy wife, produced the Malfoy Heir, and that was the lot!  As far as Lucius knew, bearing his heir and the difficult birth had left her barren, a small fact which could be used judiciously to trigger his guilt upon occasion, when necessity drove.

Stepping up behind her, Lucius draped a cascade of diamonds and platinum around her neck, fastening the small catch and kissing her nape as she cooed appreciation for the new trifle.  Resting his chin on her shoulder, he smiled in satisfaction.  “Perfect.  My white ice princess and my black, brooding vampire, such a charming and startling contrast, don’t you think?”

Narcissa stopped admiring the beautiful necklace and hissed in dissatisfaction.  “Is that why you keep him around?  Because it pleases your sense of aesthetics?”

“Well, it’s a good reason for use in mixed company.”  Lucius smirked then roared laughing at her incredibly disgusted glare.  “Now, Narcissa, you know Severus is the best potions brewer in the country and one of the best in the world.  My father loved him as a son, you know?  And Severus was good to him in his last months.  Besides, who else would brew Youth Dew perfectly every time and give it away as a present?  And you know we both benefit from that little tribute.  Besides the Dark Lord loves him and it is best to keep that sort of important contact close to hand.”

About to comment, Narcissa sighed and turned back to the mirror, a finger stroking the newly acquired bauble assessingly.  Obviously Lucius planned to slip away with Severus at some point during the soiree, since he was paying the piper in advance!  “Very well, for the Dark Lord I will tolerate him, but no sneaking off into corners, at least be discrete and go to the family wing.  Did he say if he would be attending?”

“Of course he will attend, he has nowhere else to go, except those stupid student parties his fellow practitioners throw, adolescents!”

“Not Snape!  Lucius, do keep up!  The Dark Lord!”  Narcissa stamped her foot in temper, sending an interesting ripple through her dress and her necklace.  Lucius licked his lips and moved closer but Narcissa pushed him away.  “Not now, this dress will wrinkle!”

“See!  See why I keep Severo at hand?  Does he complain his dress wrinkles if I grab his arse?  Does he push me off if I try to kiss him or pitch a tantrum if I muss his hair now and again?  At least Severus appreciates my attention!”

Glaring at him through the mirror, Narcissa shook her head in disgust.  “You are a spoilt brat, Lucius Malfoy.  You want perfection but you aren’t prepared to make a little tiny sacrifice for it, are you?  Well, if getting all mussed up is what Snape is good at, then make sure it is not in a public place.  I hate it when Marta Goyle thinks she has something to crow over me.”

Lucius laughed aloud.  “Just tell her that Goyle is porking Parkinson whenever he gets the chance.”

“Really?  How delicious, which Parkinson?”

“Both, I think!”

Malicious laughter rang out as they exited the dressing room.

 

oo0oo

 

Snape stood in a corner, looking down his nose at the elegantly rowdy crowd gathered in the Malfoy Ballroom.  Human servitors, Malfoy’s own people, circulated trays of vintage wine and spirits, small platters of incredibly intricate canapés and even tinier platters of potions and concoctions designed to assault the senses and stimulate the libido.  He knew the potions were good, he’d brewed or recommended them all himself, and he knew which ones would give the biggest bang for the pure-bred ingestion.  It amused him to watch Rosier’s mother making very crude and suggestive advances to Cygnus Black.  Bella Lestrange, the eldest of Black’s daughters, watched the carry-on between her aunt’s cousin and her father with a smirk that was wickedness distilled.

It was hard to reconcile the Black sisters, Bella was so dark and Narcissa so fair, both tall but where Narcissa glided elegantly, Bella strode arrogantly.  Narcissa was the gracious hostess, conducting her soirees with elegance and refinement that guaranteed everyone would leave in more or less one piece.  Bella Lestrange’s parties tended to end in bloodshed, usually not the guests, but the entertainments’ blood, although not all guests escaped Scott free, if their tastes ran that way.  There was another sister, Andromeda, who had married some Muggle but they didn’t mention her, certainly not in present company.  He thought he had heard the rumour that she was a healer or an Auror or something along those lines, definitely the white sheep of the family.

Snape smirked and turned away to watch another little cameo play out.  Lagonza Doyle had just grabbed a very discrete handful of Crabbe family jewels with a wrist movement that was so subtle Severus was stunned and admiring.  Of course, Crabbe, not the brightest candle on the shelf, went bright red and let out a squeak, no other way to describe it.  His wife managed to turn around fast enough to spot the clutch and emptied a wineglass over Lagonza’s head.  Malfoy house-elves descended on the pair and had the mess removed, new drinks served and platters of food separating the combatants before a single fingernail could be sharpened.  They were good!

“Severus, look at you!” Dylantin Rosier purred, sliding a hand around Severus’ thin waist and pulling him closer.

“What do you want?” Severus murmured in disgust, refusing to bend.  There was a time he had been firm friends with Dylantin’s brother Evan but that had ended quickly when Evan had tried to blame Severus for an illegal potion he was caught carrying by their Head of House.  Severus had never trusted a potions addict since, and as Dylantin was equally addicted he wasn’t about to do so ever again!

Reaching up, Dylantin blew gently in his ear.  “Did you brew the Seven Nights?  Any chance of my buying a couple of vials from you?”

“Just as much chance as there is of you affording it.”  Severus smiled silkily as he turned to look down on the pretty young man a couple of years older than he.

“And the price?”

“Ah yes, and what is the price?  A couple of years ago, it might have been Galleons, and before that, acceptance.  Now, I want a favour.”

“What favour?” Rosier asked quickly, all but scrabbling at Severus’ sleeve.

“Well, I don’t know what I need yet but I will take a favour to be completed at a time and date when I need it, in exchange for two vials of Seven Nights.  Think you can handle two hits?”

“Merlin, Severus, it must be a big favour I owe you.”  Rosier almost sobered up enough to realise he was making an open ended bargain with a fellow House member who disliked him, never a good idea, but he was desperate.  “Alright, you have a promise on that.”

“Wizard’s word,” Severus clarified as two tiny vials gave a sweet, high-pitched clink in the depths of his pocket.

“Word of a Wizard,” Rosier confirmed breathlessly and the vials were dropped gently into his outstretched hand.  “Thanks, Severus, I owe you.”

“Yes.  You do.”  Severus smirked as the man darted away into the throng.

“Dealing potions at my party, Severo, just can’t take you anywhere, can I?”  The hot breath on his neck and the hand kneading his arse made Severus smile as he turned slightly, pressing back into the man behind him.

“Not twice anyway,” he finished the time-worn joke as he turned his head a little more and caught Lucius’ lips with his own.

“Humm, good.  Peppermint and twenty-one year old Firewhisky, so very Severo.  Better than eau de potions when you are working.  Want to slip away for a few minutes, maybe take in my etchings?”

Severus smirked.  “Etchings, I thought it was more your itchings I would be taking in.”

“Crude, Severo, but true.  Come on, you know you want to.”

Shaking his head in resigned amusement, Severus followed Malfoy out, ignoring the wave of murmuring and whispers.  Who cared what they said of him, they all needed him and they all envied him, including the Malfoy wife.

 

oo0oo

 

Sprawled on Lucius’ bed, his clothes on the floor and a pleasant lassitude cradling his mind and body, Severus smiled into the dim heights of the ceiling.  Lucius really was a good lover, making sure his partners were well satisfied but eager for more.  He knew fine well that he wasn’t Lucius’ only lover, but he was the only one Lucius allowed in his home and came back to again and again.  Severus wasn’t sure why any more, not since Abraxas’ death, but he thought it might be a dog-in-the-manger attitude because the Dark Lord favoured him; and he was useful to the cause as well as being purebred, rich and available.  He was very sure it was not love, not anymore.  He feared it might be habit but hoped it was for friendship and good sex, which was good enough, really.

Cynically, Severus climbed into the shower and sighed when he saw the deep red welt on his neck.  Lucius liked to mark his partners, brand them almost, and he was careful to make sure even the highest collars could not cover up entirely, bastard.  The sting of the soap told Severus he also bore stripes on his back where Lucius had clawed the skin bloody in their frenzied coupling.  Still, it wasn’t a one-way street; he had lifted the skin off Lucius’ back too.

Dried, dressed and brushed, Severus left Lucius’ bedroom and began his return to the ballroom when a very odd sound touched his ears.  Hysterical sobbing came from one room, a child, a very small child, if not a baby, was totally distressed.  Curious and worried, Severus listened at the door and then pushed it open, his eyes widening abruptly when he saw the young woman beside the cot in the far corner.  She was tapping her foot and poking at something in the cot, a low hiss of anger passing her lips.

“Fucking kid, will you just shut up,” she hissed again and shook the bundle roughly.

Severus snarled wordlessly, his wand flashing as he cast the _Cruciatus_ Curse without a second thought.  The young woman screamed, convulsing as she hit the floor, writhing and foaming at the mouth.  Walking forward with silent steps, Severus finished the curse and kicked her ribs soundly.  “We do not mistreat children under our care, do you understand?” he hissed furiously as he reached into the cot and picked up the red-faced, white-haired mite with a care and tenderness no one would believe, even if they did see it.

Folding the tiny, shaking body into his shoulder, he patted his back with gentle care, walking slowly across the floor to the window.  Rocking from one foot to the other, he patted and petted the child, singing softly under his breath until Draco’s screams subsided into deep sobbing breaths and finally into small snuffling sighs.  As the child calmed, Severus cradled him closer and studied the tiny scrap of humanity in his fine cotton nightshirt and rather smelly nappy.  This was his Godson, Lucius’ gift to his lover who would never breed sons of his own.  Such random and extravagant gestures of generosity were the Malfoy trademark and Lucius had no idea of the joy he had brought when he had so casually asked Severus to stand up for the child.  Draco Malfoy, a precious bundle.

Summoning a house-elf, he instructed the small creature to change the child into clean, dry clothes while he grabbed the nursery maid by the hair and dragged her to her feet.  “What’s your name, bitch?  Well, Lisa Courtnay, I am going to give you a second chance but only because this is not my blood child.  If he was mine and I found you treating him like that, I would personally skin you alive one square inch at a time.  Since he is not, I am going to put a hex here, right in the middle of your chest.”  His wand dug into the skin and she cringed but could not escape it.  “If you ever have a nasty or sadistic thought about hurting the baby again, you will find that your heart will speed up, raise a hand in anger and your heart will thunder.  Hit the child and it will explode in your chest, killing you instantly.  Do you understand?  Good, I’m so glad we’ve had this little chat.  Now take care of my Godson, won’t you?”

She nodded frantically, terror making her eyes as big as her whole face.  As soon as he released her, she scuttled away and grabbed the baby, clutching him very carefully to her breast as a shield.  Under the terrifyingly hard black eyes, she put the baby back into his cot and rocked it ever so carefully until the boy went back to sleep.  When she finally dared look over at the doorway, the monster had gone but the skin over her heart never ceased to throb from that day onward.

 

oo0oo

 

“He’s here, he’s here,” the whisper went around the ballroom as men bowed and women curtseyed to the tall, black-haired man with the piercing blue eyes.

Narcissa carefully smoothed her hair, took the arm Lucius offered her and swept forward, executing a perfect curtsey before the Dark Lord.  She held it, almost on her knees without a wobble until Lucius straightened from his bow and brought her up with perfect flare.

“Ah, Narcissa, as beautiful and as graceful as ever, you make the rest of them look like oxen,” Lord Voldemort murmured as he took her hand and kissed it, tucking it into his elbow.

Narcissa smiled up coyly, fluttering her artfully darkened lashes as she allowed the Dark Lord to lead her deeper into the hall.  Lucius gave her a subtle high sign behind his back as he followed his Lord at a respectful distance.  The Dark Lord promenaded the ballroom, speaking a word here and a personal bow there, singling out certain men or women for a congratulatory hand shake or smile.  Those he was not pleased with were given a raised eyebrow or even worse, a pursed-lipped stare.  Subtle eddies of people moved close to the favoured and away from the dispossessed.  Finally, at a barely moved finger, one of the lesser minions brought over a tray of bottles, the finest the Malfoy cellars had to offer.  Lucius himself offered the pick of the crop for his Lord’s inspection and choice, opening and ceremoniously pouring Lord Voldemort’s choice into a silver crystal goblet of superb craftsmanship.

“Perfect, as always, Lucius.”  The Lord bowed slightly after his first sip.  “And Narcissa, my favourite canapé, how thoughtful of you.  If venison tartar is not prepared just so, it is appallingly bad.  Now _this_ is perfect!”

Narcissa smiled serenely but allowed her heart rate to drop a little, the Lord was pleased and he was even sitting down in a favoured armchair, a throne-like affair of deep cordovan leather, butter-soft and cloud-comfortable.  A small rosewood table appeared at his left hand to take the wine bottle, held to perfect temperature with a charm.  Napkins, plates and more of the venison delicacy appeared before the Malfoys withdrew to a discrete distance and allowed their Lord to hold court.  They were both unutterably relieved until Lord Voldemort peered around the wing of the chair and smiled sleepily at Lucius.

“And where is my favourite potions brewer this evening?” he asked quietly.

An electric silence took the assembly, whether gleeful or gloomy, depended on how deeply into the Lord’s good graces the person was.  Before Lucius could think up a good excuse or Narcissa could muster a tremble, a patch of darkness detached itself from the wall and glided forward to kneel submissively before Lord Voldemort in a cloud of black velvet, head bowed reverently.  Long black hair swung forward and hid his face from all, including Lucius and Narcissa.  A slightly disappointed sigh went through the crowd as their Lord leaned forward and tipped Severus’ chin up to study the long, plain faced young man.  The finger slid down and touched briefly on the red welt just above the line of his high collar, stroking slightly before it withdrew.

“Hiding your light in the shadows again, my Severus?” Voldemort teased gently, casting _Legilimens_ with not even a flicker of warning.  The moment held electric as blue eyes invaded black then the Dark Lord smirked.  He chuckled slightly and patted one sallow cheek as he leaned back and took up his glass again, releasing the young man who continued to kneel without moving, patiently awaiting his release.  That was something Lord Voldemort loved about Severus Snape, his ability to keep perfectly still in mind, body and soul.  “Did you have fun with the nursemaid, my Severus?” he asked after a long sip of wine.

“It was but a warning dose of _Cruciatus_ and only a minor, but useful hex,” Severus murmured, his soft, silky voice barely reaching his Lord’s ears, certainly not travelling as far as the two Malfoys hovering behind the throne.

“I did not realise you were fond of children,” he teased lightly, amused when Snape blushed slightly.

“Sadly, we all have our weaknesses.  I think some babies are very cute, as are some small animals, but not many,” Severus confirmed ruefully.

Voldemort burst out laughing, almost spraying the petitioner with wine.  “Oh, you are just too serious at times.  Come now, sit comfortably and tell me of your studies, how do they progress?”

Moving into a tailor seat at his Lord’s feet, Snape sat straight and tall, no servility in his pose.  “My Lord, I finish my Mastery in two weeks and I think it is just a formality really.  I have already created and invented more complex and complicated potions than those making up the test of Mastery.  I have you to thank for that practice, my Lord.”  Snape bowed his head in acknowledgement of the experimentation his Lord had allowed him to do in his private potions laboratory; all the specimens he had used to test the results of his brewing.

“Gracious as always, my Severus.  I have a task for you, once you have finished the formalities.”

“Of course, my Lord, my life is yours, at your service.”

Voldemort smiled expansively, again leaning forward to pat the pale cheek and offer his lover and true servant a piece of venison.  Snape made no demure about accepting the sliver of raw meat pressed between his lips, chewing and swallowing with a minimum of fuss and some signs of relish.  “Do you like it?”

“I am not much of a meat eater but that is acceptable.  Perhaps a touch of rosemary would enhance the piquancy of the flavour, but then again, it might drown out the more delicate hint of marjoram.”

“Ah, you caught that, did you?  Many people do not include the marjoram, which is a mistake but of course, Narcissa’s chef is definitely up to par.”  The Lord was in a very good mood indeed and those around him were quick to echo his mood, thankful that it was Snape and not them who was crouching at his feet making conversation.  “Lucius, take your lovely wife out to dance, off you go.”

Lucius bowed deeply and offered his arm to Narcissa, a signal to the musicians to play dance music.  He was miffed at being dismissed from his Lord’s side, especially while Severus was still in earnest conversation.  Narcissa, an accomplished dancer, spun lightly into the Cotillion, her lips barely moving as she hissed a demand to know what Snape was saying to the Master.

“How would I know?  When did I get a chance to talk to him this evening?  You have made sure I didn’t have more than a moment alone with Severus all night.”

“You mean you didn’t disappear with him for nearly an hour?” Narcissa demanded snidely.

“Good Merlin, was it that long?  It seemed like only a few seconds.  Still, you know what I’m like, and Severus is no better, or much better depending on your view point.”  He smirked at his wife who glared back then widened her eyes as a thought hit her.

“You don’t think he and the Dark Lord have had a tiff, do you?  Now that would be just too much to bear!  We do allow Severus to run tame here, after all.”

Lucius laughed aloud at his wife’s speculation but uneasiness crept though him.  “Nah,” he dismissed after a moment’s thought.  “If Severus is seeing someone else besides the Dark Lord and I, then he is even more of an athlete than I thought.  He told me frankly that he and Lord Voldemort are, er, I suppose saying they are knocking boots would be a little irreverent, wouldn’t it?  Still, I would know if Severo was covering anything up, I know Severo very, very well.”

“Inside and out, I should think,” Narcissa sniffed then grinned wickedly.  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.  Well, at least _He_ is enjoying himself and he liked the food and the wine, and he is pleased with us.”

“Yes, at least!”  Lucius sighed contentedly as he twirled his wife under his arm and bowed in form.  “Besides, it would be none of our business, now would it?”

“And you permit your lover to go to someone else?” she scoffed lightly.

“With the Dark Lord, yes, I would, and do, without a qualm,” Lucius said without rancour.

Narcissa’s eyes widened in disbelief before she nodded thoughtfully.  “It’s probably best that you patched up your quarrel with Severus, especially now when the Lord seems to be moving forward to even greater heights.  You know, I think the day of his final triumph is drawing near,” she added with the zeal of a Crusader in her voice making Lucius’ eyebrow raise in mild surprise.  Narcissa never grew that excited or reverent about anything else but the Dark Lord’s cause had taken her heart and mind, probably her soul as well.

 

oo0oo

 

Voldemort leaned forward and tapped Severus’ knee, to fix his attention fully.  “As soon as you have finished your schooling I want you to apply to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the position of Defence against the Dark Arts Master.  The present incumbent should be having a nasty accident about Tuesday which will leave the position open for next year.”

“Your will, my Lord,” Snape agreed without a flicker of emotion.

“Aren’t you even curious as to why you should do this?” Voldemort sat back in surprise.

Snape looked up for the first time during the interview, allowing his Lord a clear view of his eyes, their personal invitation to _Legilimency_.  “I assume you want me to spy on Dumbledore and his cadre of do-gooders.  Obviously he has been doing something you do not appreciate and you need inside information which you feel I might be able to gather for you.”

“Ah, Severus, you are too smart for your own good at times.  Yes, indeed, he has been doing something that displeases me mightily.  He has assembled some sort of secret army, the Order of the Phoenix, or so I believe, which has opposed my plans over the last few years.  The band of stupid fools has caused two of my less important raids to go astray.  Even worse, when I offered my services as a teacher, he has refused to allow me to return to Hogwarts.  This means I cannot search for that which has avoided me these many years!  I want you in place to be my conduit to gaining access to Hogwarts eventually.  To do that, you need to gain the old fool’s trust.”

Severus listened with all his attention while his master cursed and snarled at Dumbledore’s interference and meddling ways.  Sometimes Tom did rant and rave, giving out information he probably wasn’t aware that he disclosed.  By the simple expedient of casting _muffliato_ , a silencing charm of his own devising, over the area, Severus made sure no one else overheard his master, until Lord Voldemort had regained control of his temper.

Gripping his lips firmly, Tom gave his head a tiny shake and nodded appreciation of Severus’ thoughtfulness then smiled slightly.  “Will you go willingly to your fate at my behest, my Severus?  Face the hoards of brats and tolerate their prating and wrangling all day so that you might win me an entry into the fastness of Hogwarts School?”

“If that is your will, my Lord,” Snape nodded respectfully, “then so be it.”

“Thank you, Severus, you may kiss me now,” the man said with a slow, sly smile.

Severus raised an eyebrow and bent forward to offer the symbolic kiss on each cheek only to find warm, hard lips engulfing his.  Swift though it was, the kiss was erotic and thorough, almost making Severus gasp aloud.  The Lord did not usually allow private matters to overlap formal ones and it was a surprise.  For a moment he nearly lost his balance but then the Lord withdrew and smiled smugly as he watched the dark man straighten, only a faint flush betraying how off-balance he really was.  “We must have dinner together again soon, my Severus, privately.”

“Your will, my Lord.”  Severus knew better than to even smile as he discretely withdrew and allowed the rest of the party access to their Lord and Master.

“So what did he say?” Lucius hissed in his ear as he made to pass.

“It seems I am to have a new career, school master and spy,” Severus muttered as he prepared to withdraw.  “Wish me luck, won’t you?”  He left Lucius gaping in his wake as he hurriedly removed himself from the Ballroom and out to the Apparition point on his way home, glad to get away from the cloying atmosphere of Malfoy.  After Abraxas’ death Lucius had thrown him out of the Manor and he had gone to ground in the London Apartments that had been in Snape possession for centuries.  It had proved to be a good move, the peace and silence of his own place soothing a growing uneasiness and restlessness in his soul.  Striping off his formal robes, he shrugged into his standard lab robe and stalked into his potions laboratory to find some solace in that which he did best.  Brewing always soothed him and gave him time to think rationally about what he had been ordered to do.

Become a school master?  He never wanted to be a bloody schoolmaster, never!  His talent was here in the lab with his potions and ingredients and insights into how the art could be taken to the next level.  He had envisaged himself as a researcher, delving into the mysteries of mediaeval brewing, rediscovering some of the forgotten lore and developing new and better potions to combat the problems of the current era.  He had thought he might give the odd lecture or two at the College of Potions Makers or even address the International Conclave of Potions Masters at some point but take on the teaching of idiotic, lame-brained children on a daily basis.  He shuddered at the thought!

But his soul was not his own and had not been for years.  Sometimes that was a good thing and at others it was a flaming brand in his mind.  Still, he had to believe there were worse things than being the most powerful Lord’s lover.  Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to be a school master after all.

  


	19. Chapter 19: Prophecy

  
Author's notes: _Please Note:  In Phoenix Trelawney states she had been at the school almost two years longer than Severus but alas, that didn’t suit my plot line, so please forgive me.  (See Tarsie, I can be nice. LOL)_  


* * *

19 - Prophecy

 

 

The candidates for the title of Potions Master were each secluded in their separate examination rooms ready to answer the multiple pages of questions the Examination and Accreditation Board had prepared.  Severus stared at the first page in faint disbelief, marking his answer with casual confidence.  He worked steadily through the series of questions, each progressively harder and each building on the last.  As he turned the final page, he paused, re-reading the question with a slight frown.  Something nagged at his subconscious, trying desperately to attract his attention.

“ _When you are playing chess, young Severus, you should be a little more aware of the mis-directions and the subtle misleading of your attention from your main objective._ ”  The laughing advice came a few seconds after a crushing victory set up by Tom, but he had walked wide eyed into the trap because of overconfidence and the discarding of some small details that did not fit with what he perceived as the ‘real attack’.

An indrawn breath and a scrabble back through the sheets made Severus slap his own forehead and toss the paper on the floor in disgust.  His examiner looked up and frowned.  “Is there something wrong, Mr Snape?” he asked in concern.

“No, I am an idiot, is all.  May I have another paper?”

“Er, yes, but you have to give me the first.”

“But it’s spoilt!” Severus protested, but the man assured him that was no problem:  it would be discarded after the exam but it had to be accounted for.

Shrugging, Severus swapped the spoiled paper for the new one and worked the questions until he came to the junction.  If he continued on the most recognisable line of thought he would have ended up exactly where he had the first time, but if he gave the more obscure answer, then….  He sneered at the sheet then followed the new path until he again reached the end of the paper.  Less cocky this time, he went back over the twenty sheets of questions, recognised the first parting of the ways and acknowledged it was a tricky little thing before moving on with the questions.  After the fourteenth sheet again the uneasiness came upon him and he went back, checking and re-checking, paging through the multitude of potions texts he kept in his memory library until he came to a rather bizarre author whose potions were considered to be too radical for mainstream potions creation.

Lorrima Bungwittle, an American researcher working out of the Amazon, had discovered some rather exotic and really interesting properties in bromeliads which, when treated in a certain way, completely changed the face of common potions into much more effective paths.  Snorting in disgust, Snape looked up, caught his examiner’s attention and was given yet another clean examination folder.  Shaking his head, he was about to start again when the examiner coughed gently.

“You can write ‘see pages one to wherever on the previous exam paper’ if you like,” the man offered dividently, and Snape nodded his thanks for the advice, turning to the appropriate divergence of the ways.  He was a lot more careful and found a number of new divergences which could have taken him off at a tangent but which seemed to be leading to dead ends so he simply wrote notes to indicate he had seen the new path but chose to follow the line of reasoning he had started.  It was all very complex and he had no idea if he had answered correctly by the time he finished the paper to his own satisfaction.  He also had no idea of how long he had been in the examination room as time seemed to have stood still while he was concentrating, as usual.

Handing his finished paper to the examiner, he frowned, he could have sworn he had had a different supervisor originally, but then he just shrugged.  Hunger made itself known and he strode along to the cafeteria, ordering a hearty soup and a small loaf of bread to go with it.

“So how did you find it, Snape?” Woodwhistle asked, plunking down beside him and placing a similar bowl of soup on the table.

“Taxing,” Severus replied honestly.  “When I found I had missed a whole section of the paper I had to start all over again and re-do the bloody thing, twice even!  The logic trap on page seventeen was a kicker too, nearly made me lose my train of thought and doubt I had a good line of reasoning going after all.”

“Huh?  What logic trap?  But… but… I didn’t see any logic traps, just some fiendishly difficult brewing.”  Woodwhistle dropped his spoon and stared at his classmate in horror.

“True, the brewing would have been fiendishly difficult but the divergence into the separate tracks of potions methods was where I was almost caught out,” Severus mused then cocked his head at his classmate who looked extremely green around the gills.  “What is it?  Found a night crawler in your soup?”

“Worse, I think I just failed.”

Snape frowned slightly then sneered at the man’s angst.  “Too late to worry about it now, isn’t it?  The results come in less than a week and then you will know for sure if you were right or wrong; until then, forget it.”

“Easy for you to say, if you fail it’s no big deal.  If I fail, it’s down to an apothecary’s assistant I go.”

“If I fail, it is down to the grave I go,” Severus corrected softly under his breath, too quietly for his colleague to hear but it was a chilling thought.  If he did fail, would Tom forgive him, or would Lord Voldemort punish him severely for his failure?  Shivering, Severus pushed his soup away, no longer hungry at all.

 

oo0oo

 

“Oh, come on, Severus, you know you are good at potions.  You have passed your brewer’s exams with flying colours and even if you don’t make Master, you know you will get Honorarium.  All this stupid soul searching is a waste of time.  What happened to the confidence you had when you left here three days ago?”

“There were tricks and traps on the paper, I fell into one and found one other, what if there were more, what if I missed something?  I often miss traps on the chess board, what if I missed an important step and built a chain of logic on a quagmire?  What if…”

“What if the sky falls in?” Lucius demanded sarcastically, then softened his stance and hugged the taller man close.  “Severus… Severo, just relax, Love, you are good, very good and even if you do fail, we’ll still love you.  The Dark Lord will still appreciate your skills as a brewer of his potions, he will still encourage you to try again to get your Mastery and you will get it, Love, honestly you will.  Now come along, we have a perfectly good chef at Malfoy and you could use a couple of square meals by the look of you.  When did you last eat properly?”

Severus frowned then shrugged.  “I can’t remember.  Do you really think Tom would forgive me if I failed?”

Lucius smiled and held him close.  “Of course I do,” he said reassuringly, lying though his back teeth.

 

oo0oo

 

Malfoy in June was truly beautiful, the gardens in full bloom, the trees shading the paths and the bees humming busily amongst the thousands of flowers and fruit trees.  Herbs of all types and kinds were growing lush and green or silver or purple, some ready to harvest, some ready to actually flower, some already gone to seed ready for the next year.  Severus wandered through the extensive acreage, taking a pinch here and a taste there, the head gardener hard on his heels.  Usually the outdoors revolted Severus but in the potions garden he always felt relaxed and ready to enjoy nature’s bounty first hand.  Indicating some ripe nightshade berries, he had the gardener set his minions to harvest them and note that an eye should be kept on the plants to pick the berries as soon as they turned colour.

The St John’s Wort was almost ready for the first flush of picking and the Monk's Hood was flowering steadily.  He remembered reading somewhere about the newly discovered Wolfsbane Potion, developed here in Britain and wondered if Lupin had ever tried it?  It would be an interesting brew to practise on, quite difficult to get right and deadly to get wrong.  He was about to order the harvest when an owl swooped at his head and landed on his shoulder impatiently.  Severus went rigid for a second but, because of the head gardener’s presence, he gave no hint of the nervousness in him as he detached the message and sent the bird on its way again.

The scroll was of heavy vellum rather than mere parchment and crackled slightly as Severus carefully broke the seal of the College of Potions Masters, unrolling it gently and never really looking until he saw the end results.  He felt a load lift from his shoulders when he saw he had gained his honorarium and then almost passed out when he read that he had been granted a full and unconditional Mastery at the world class level.  Sinking to the ground as his knees gave way; Severus sat there in the dirt and read through the results again and again to make sure he was not seeing things.  No one was granted an unconditional Mastery, no one!  Yet there it was in dark blue ink on creamy yellow vellum, his name, his score, his grant.  The actual documents would be presented to him at the award ceremony to be held the following week at the College proper.

He was recalled to his senses by the head gardener’s anxious enquiries as to his health, rising to clap the old man on the shoulder in an excess of high spirits.  “Never better,” he exclaimed, actually grinning as he Apparated up to the main house and to the study to stand in front of Abraxas’ portrait and tell the old man all about his triumph.  Abraxas, now that he had settled into his portrait, was very happy for his good friend and congratulated him most heartily then told him to go and spread the word.  It did not strike Severus as at all ironic that the person he most wanted to share his good news with was the portrait of a man he had smothered to death less than six months previously.  Abraxas had been and would always be one of his very best friends.

Racing up the stairs four at a time, the next person to hear the good news was Draco who had just turned one year old and was still experimenting with gravity.  His wails of anger at falling on his bum again echoed down the hall but were soon stopped when his Uncle Severus tossed him into the air and spun him in a circle making him laugh and chortle.  Although he didn’t understand a word his uncle said, the baby laughed and squirmed just happy to be played with.  The nursemaid was quick to vanish away as soon as the black clad man entered the suite, still terrified of him and still fully aware of the curse sitting in the middle of her chest.

Even before Lucius and Narcissa returned to the manor and received the news of Severus’ triumph, the staff were all informed and a banquet was already in the making before Lucius could even order it.  All Severus’ favourite dishes were paraded that evening and Lucius was quick to propose a toast, teasing his young friend unmercifully over his doubts of earlier in the week.

“The youngest Potions Master ever,” he announced, Narcissa raising her own glass and giggling when Severus actually blushed faintly.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Narcissa asked once Lucius had taken his seat again.

“Our Lord wants me to apply to Hogwarts as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Severus mumbled from behind his glass of Firewhisky.

“What?  But, but that’s absurd, surely…” Narcissa began then bit her own tongue.  “Well, he must have a good reason for sending you into that position, mustn’t he?”

“One would hope so,” Lucius said sternly, eyeing his wife in surprise.  It was not like her to question anything the Dark Lord proposed.  “So, how are you going to go about lesson planning and all that sort of stuff?” he asked of Severus, who looked faintly horrified.

“I have no idea!  I suppose I will have to do a little research, won’t I,” the young man muttered again.  “My biggest worry is, how on earth do you defend against the Dark Arts?  Personally, I would have thought teaching the Dark Arts without artifice would be more useful than some stupid attempt to defend, wouldn’t you?”

Narcissa giggled.  “Wouldn’t they all get a shock at Hogwarts if they started turning out fully capable and well informed Dark Wizards instead of the hit and miss efforts of our generation?”

“It would have certainly saved a lot of time if they had taught us right from the start,” Lucius mused, then grinned slyly at Severus.  “You will make a fantastic teacher.  If they won’t listen, you can turn them all into potions ingredients without even lifting your wand!”

“Or you can terrify them into submission with one of your patented glares,” Narcissa teased then burst out laughing when Severus turned one of his patented glares on her, blowing him a kiss that made him scowl.

“So, when are you going to go and apply for the position then?” Lucius enquired more sensibly when the fits of laughter had passed.

“My Lord already sent my application in, contingent on the results I received for my Mastery.  I should imagine the results are going out to ‘Mr Riddle’ and Headmaster Dumbledore even as we speak.  I expect I will have to go up to Hogwarts some time in the next few weeks.”

“Good luck then.  That should be a very bumpy ride down memory lane for you,” Lucius commiserated knowingly.

 

oo0oo

 

“Well, well, well, would you look at that?  Severus Snape has topped the examination lists and is now the youngest Potions Master in the world,” Minerva murmured, folding the Daily Prophet and passing it across Professor Sprout to Professor Dumbledore.  “He has gone even further than I suspected.”

“Ah yes, Severus Snape.  I always knew he would go far but I do feel we failed him badly at school,” Albus murmured, taking the paper and smiling sadly at the photo that accompanied the story.  They had chosen to reprint the picture of Severus after the incident in the park at the St Mungo’s charity concert.  It was probably one of the very few photographs anyone had of Severus as he had always been a very solitary boy with very few friends.

“He was a conniving little sod with a taste for illegal potions brewing,” Minerva protested indignantly.

“Well, that too, but he was also brilliant, could keep a secret and had a very definite streak of compassion in his make-up.”

“In a pig’s eye!” Pomona Sprout protested almost unwillingly.  “He was always raiding my gardens and stealing off with various ingredients he had no business either knowing about or using, let me tell you!”

“Actually, Pomona, some of those ill-gotten gains were used in our school infirmary to very good advantage,” Poppy Pomfrey said quietly, blushing when she realised she had the attention of all the staff in the room.  “Oh, he used to make brews for the infirmary, improved our Skele-Gro formula out of sight and some of his healing lotions were incredibly efficient at stopping scarring and promoting healing almost a thousand fold.  We still use some of his earlier potions and St Mungo’s often sends the catalogue with Severus’ name on the new brewing.  He is really well respected in medical circles.”

“He has all the charm of a rabid badger and all the affability of a Dementor,” Filius Flitwick spoke up quietly.  “On the other hand, he has a mind that is incredibly astute and the reasoning ability of someone far older than his actual age.  Pity he was mixed up with the Malfoy lot, bad eggs in that crowd.”

The discussion waxed and waned around the staff room until consensus was reached.  Severus Snape would make a brilliant and dedicated Potions Master, shame about the personality.  Albus simply listened to the talk, noting who said what and when it was said until Minerva pinned him with a very stern gaze.  “You’re very quiet, Albus, never a good sign.  What do you think of young Master Snape’s achievement?”

“I think… I think I am going to interview him.  He has applied for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Master, but I think I will ask you to move to that position, Horace,” - Slughorn bowed ironically, “and appoint Severus to the position of Potions Master, much less dangerous for the boy and it will give him a place to retreat to where there are no outside influences.”

There were a few squeaks of outrage that Albus would even think of subjecting children to someone like Snape, who was reputed to be a Death Eater and if he wasn’t actually a Death Eater he was something pretty close.  Twinkling, nodding and smiling, Albus allowed his staff full rein to air their views until one by one they began to see the better side of having someone like Snape on staff.  He would bring prestige to the school if he didn’t murder them all in their beds that were - he was reputed to be a vampire after all - and did everyone see the photo of him in the Daily Prophet a few years ago?  What was that all about then?  Finally, the gossiping complaints died down and Albus rose to take his leave of his staff.  Only Minerva noticed he had not offered any opinion one way or the other after he left.

 

oo0oo

 

Taking the train to Hogsmeade was not an option as far as Severus was concerned.  Lucius offered to provide a carriage for him, but Severus decided he would be better off Apparating up to Hogsmeade on the Friday before and staying at the Three Broomsticks over night.  His appointment with Professor Dumbledore was not until lunchtime on Saturday so he had plenty of time to spend as he wished.

Rosmerta was very polite to him when he arrived, showing him up to a rather pleasant room personally.  Considering how she had thrown him out of the pub on the few occasions he had ventured inside, it was a complete turn around and rather amusing in a sad sort of a way.  Hogsmeade did not hold very many happy memories for Severus; getting pushed into a barrel of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans in Honeyduke’s.  Being hexed in the middle of the main street by that bastard Black.  Running for his life from the monster under the Shrieking Shack, not realising it was Lupin until the Headmaster refused to do anything about the boy or about Black, the murderer.

That evening he dined in solitary splendour before deciding to have a drink in the main bar before going up to bed.  He was very surprised to see Hagrid, the groundskeeper sipping from a mug that was almost twice the size of a conventional pint-sized beer mug.  Still, Hagrid was almost twice the size of a conventional man so that seemed appropriate.  He was even more surprised when Hagrid acknowledged his presence and brought his exceptional pint over to the table Severus had selected in a dark corner.

“Well then, Severus Snape, how are ye these days?” the half giant asked in a rather reasonable tone and volume for him.

“Well, thank you, Hagrid.  And yourself?” Severus answered civilly, having had a good relationship with the groundskeeper during his school days.

“Oh, can’t complain, can’t complain.  Are you up to see the night blooming ferns that have come up in the Forbidden Forest then?” the groundskeeper asked hopefully.  “They’re comin’ up a treat, I can tell ye, and you were always int’rested in the wild potions ingredients the forest provided for ye.”  Enthusiasm seemed to multiply with the words.

Severus half smiled.  “I hadn’t heard but I would certainly like to have a look at them, Hagrid.  Any spider silk at the moment?” he asked slyly.

Hagrid blushed then nodded conspiratorially.  “Aye, that I have, if ye’ll be wantin’ a couple of hanks, and there’s some Unicorn tail hair, as well as mane hair, both silver and white as well as yellow and black.  I’ve got some werewolf hair too, wild werewolf.  The pack had a bit of a set-to a few months ago and left half of someone’s pelt torn out, some even still attached to the skin, mind you.  That should be useful to you, young Severus.”

“Useful indeed, Rubeus,” Severus murmured, impressed in spite of himself.  Hagrid had always been able to get rare and sometimes next-to-impossible ingredients out of the Forbidden Forest when others failed.  “I can offer you a couple of litres of healing potions with instructions on how to make it species specific.  I also have some Skele-Gro that would be very useful for say, Hippogriff, centaur and unicorn bones.”

Hagrid’s eyes lit up in pleasure.  “Eh, that would be right handy,” he agreed happily.

“May I order you a refill?” Severus offered courteously and signalled the barman for another round.

The night was rather pleasant after that, Severus wandering off to bed feeling happy for the first time in quite a while.  Hagrid might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knew his own areas of expertise inside out and was a joy to listen to on certain aspects of wild creatures and their habits.  His store of folklore and herb lore was equally extensive if not trained in more conventional pathways.

Morning did not come early for Severus which was all to the good.  He crawled out of bed after nine o’clock and took a leisurely bath before wandering down to seek breakfast.  Since his appointment with Dumbledore was not until lunchtime, he selected a book from the number he always travelled with and chose a comfortably warm spot in the shade of the building to settle down with a pint of light lager and while away the morning in mindless pursuits.  He was not particularly happy to be disturbed by a slightly whining female voice coming from the window to his left that began to drone on some half hour after taking up his selected position.  About to move on, he was arrested to hear a very familiar voice replying, although he did not quite catch the words.

“… a long line of seers and foretellers,” the woman said with an affected giggle that grated on Severus’ ear.  “My ancestress was Cassandra Trelawney, you know, a well known and particularly accurate reader of the stars and cards.  I myself prefer crystal balls and tea leaves and I have been trained in the latest modern teaching methods according to the strict guidelines laid down by the Seeresses Guild of Knowing.  I did, in point of fact, predict the last big earthquake in Europe to the day,” she bragged, and Severus smothered a snort.

Predicting the last big earthquake in Europe was like predicting the last fall of rain when the thunder was rumbling overhead, a no-brainer.  About to tune her out, Severus was suddenly struck by a prickling of the magical fields, as if a large working was in progress in the vicinity.  He stiffened alertly, eyes scanning for incoming Aurors or Death Eaters, either of which would be horrendous at this point.  The woman continued to chatter then her voice changed suddenly, almost mid-word, to a deeper, fuller tone.  “ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…”_

“Hoi!”  The hand that landed on Severus’ shoulder made him overbalance from his forward leaning position and sprawled out on the porch face first.  Furious, he flung the man away from him by wandless magic alone and scrambled to his feet, but the woman had stopped speaking.  Instead, she had stuck her head out of the window to see who was there, an odd looking female with huge glasses and rather wispy blonde hair dragged back in a star-spangled hair band.  The barman was looking equally startled as he too sprawled on his back in the garden where Severus’ magic had tossed him.

Glaring from one to the other, Severus pulled his robes straight and snatched up his book before storming off to his room in disgust.  Slamming his room door shut, Severus quickly snatched out a quill and wrote down the prophecy so he would not forget it, although he was very sure he would never forget it, ever.  He cursed the idiot who had disturbed him, wondering what the other half had been, how much more there was and whether it was clearer than the bit he overheard.

Who had defied their Lord three times and had a child in July?  It wasn’t Lucius and Narcissa, their child had been born in June, the sixth month and neither of them would even _think_ to argue with the Lord, never mind defy him.  And which year did she actually mean?  This year, last year, when?  He was still grinding his teeth over not hearing the full prophecy when his alarm charm reminded him it was nearly time for his meeting with Dumbledore.

 

oo0oo

 

Albus Dumbledore watched Severus enter the room he had reserved for his meetings with all the wariness of a cat in a strange house.  The boy had lost any baby softening over his bones and was now a mature man of saturnine aspect and extremely tall, well over six feet, probably nearer six and a half.  His heavy black robes swirled around his legs and his upright carriage gave the impression of imperious command as he swept forward and nodded a greeting.

“Ah, Severus, so good to see you again, please sit down and have some tea.  I’ve ordered a light luncheon for us; shall we eat before speaking about the position at Hogwarts?”

“Certainly, Headmaster,” Severus agreed, willing to prove he had good manners, even if the delay killed him.  He had to get the Prophecy back to his Lord as soon as possible.

They ate, making small talk and revisiting old memories very carefully, Severus had grown into a poised player of pure-blood games and Albus had always been the consummate politician therefore neither gained any extra information over the meal, even though Albus did try to use a touch of _Legilimency_ but Snape’s blocking _Occlumency_ was perfect.  As the house-elves cleared away the remains of the meal and brought fresh tea for both men, Albus sat back and contemplated his ex-student carefully, weighing what he had to say very carefully before nodding decisively.

“You have done very well in the field of Potions, Severus, very well indeed.  Congratulations on becoming the youngest Potions Master in the world, very well done considering how many others you were competing against, the largest group of candidates in the last thirty years, I believe.”

“That is so,” Severus confirmed without conceit.  “I am very good at potions, always have been, but I would prefer to practise my Dark Arts at this time, er, my _Defence Against_ the Dark Arts, rather.”

“Oh, I think the first was rather closer to the truth.”  Dumbledore smiled knowingly.  “Severus, you are a skilled Potions Master, very skilled and learned and as a Potions Master, Hogwarts would be proud to have you on the staff.  You cannot practise your Dark Arts at Hogwarts.  I have already told your Master that I - and Hogwarts - will not stand for it.  Yes, yes, I know, you have no master, mark the protests as already said.”  Albus waved the unborn words away impatiently.  “Let me make it plain to you, Severus, a servant of the self titled Dark Lord would not make it onto Hogwarts grounds without tripping every alarm ever put up.  You serve your Dark Lord and even having you set foot on Hogwarts soil would be next to impossible….”

“Headmaster, I do not serve the Dark Lord!”  Severus stated flatly, staring the Headmaster in the eye unblushingly.

Albus paused in his tirade, brought up short by the obvious sincerity, confirmed by the magic that surrounded him.  Severus truly did not serve the Dark Powers.  It was amazing!  “Can you truly state you do not serve Lord Voldemort in any capacity.”

“I have never bowed to Lord Voldemort, I refused his service years ago,” Severus replied and again the magic field registered it was the literal truth.

Albus sat back, unsure of where to go next.  “Very well, but my stricture still stands; I cannot offer you the job of Defence Against the Dark Arts master but I can offer you Potions.  The pay is the standard contract for a head of department, but I can offer you the Hogwarts facilities to continue your research into healing potions, also the time to conduct that research, which is probably more important.  Hogwarts does have an extensive library and book swapping privileges with most of the learning centres across the world, so we can offer you meat and drink for your thirst for knowledge.”

Severus sat back and stroked his chin thoughtfully.  “It is not what I want but it is a fair offer.  May I have a few days to think about it, realign my expectations and contemplate what this change will mean to my future?”

“The best I can give you is one week, I’m afraid.  Timetabling waits for no man, not even me,” Dumbledore joked as they both rose and shook hands.  “Take care, my boy, and be very careful how you split hairs, you sail very close to the wind.”

Severus blinked then half smiled at the old man, morphing it into a sneer.  “All good sailors do,” he replied as he left, almost bumping into someone in the corridor.  He vaguely heard the headmaster greet someone behind him as he turned the corner out of sight then paused to listen.

“So this is young Harry,” Dumbledore laughed, taking the baby.  “Did you have any trouble getting here, James?  I heard the trains were a little….”  The door closed.

 

oo0oo

 

“I said I wanted you to apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, Severus, and you have disappointed me!” Lord Voldemort said ominously, glaring at the dark young man who sat opposite him.

“That’s exactly what I applied for, Tom, but Dumbledore refused me.  I assumed that any position is better than no position so I didn’t turn him down cold when he offered the alternative,” Severus replied evenly, ignoring the threat in the Lord’s voice.  “However, my position or lack of it is very secondary to the other news I have, believe me!”

Tom narrowed his eyes at the tone his lover used.  Sometimes Severus overstepped himself, more and more these days, it seemed.  “Well?  What news is so important that you would not spend time campaigning to fulfil the order I gave you.”

“A prophecy…”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake…”

“A true prophecy, I can tell the difference, you know,” Severus overrode the Lord’s sceptical exclamation most rudely.  “I only heard half because of a stupid, stupid idiot of a barman but the bit I did hear applied to you, I swear.”

Tom stopped his fidgeting and stared at Severus, almost demanding _Legilimency_ and Severus let him in.  The scene replayed itself from start to finish, including the interview with Dumbledore, Severus’ protestations that he did not serve the Dark Lord and Dumbledore’s confirmation of the truth.  Drawing away from the boy’s mind, Tom glared at Severus bitterly.

“So you do not serve me, do you not?” he asked silkily, his wand hand twitching even as Severus smiled a complete smirk of self-satisfaction.

“Oh, I serve _you_ , _Tom_ , no doubt about that and I would give my life for you if it was asked of me and was necessary to forward your cause.  I do not worship the Dark Lord, nor do I take very much account of Lord Voldemort, but Tom Marvolo Riddle has my complete heart and loyalty.”  Severus leaned in and kissed the lips that slowly softened into a smile.

“You are a strange one, my Severus, so very strange at times.  So, tell me this prophecy again so we can find out who this child is and deal with the problem before it becomes a real issue.”

The two men retired to the sofa to sit close and comfortable and dissect the words of the Seeress.


	20. Chapter 20: The Wages of Loyalty

20 - The Wages of Loyalty

 

_Snape Manor_

 

Rarely allowing himself to relax completely, Severus felt safe enough in Tom Riddle’s rooms to discard his robes and loll on the hearthrug in his shirt sleeves.  Bare feet waved in the air as he lay on his belly with a book Tom had given him, gnawing on his quill tip as he read the ancient vampire language.  One small word seemed to be pivotal to the meaning of the passage; just a small word but they were usually the trickiest ones.  Shaking his head, he held up his hand and flipped through the dictionary that flew to his soundless _Accio_.  He found the word and nodded happily, having solved the passage’s meaning, then froze as he realised what he had done.

Without thinking, he _Accioed_ the other two books in the series, turning them over and over in his hands, disbelief making him tremble.  Every stain and scuffmark on the covers was as familiar to him as the lines on the palm of his hand.  Every crease and browned blood stain on the pages was as it should be, as it always had been, as it should not be.  With no thought for consequences, he Apparated, appearing before the bookshelf at Snape Manor with a pop that sounded like a gunshot in the silence of the ancient and deserted house.  Sure enough, there was a three book hole in the line of tomes, a gaping hole in the uniform shelves that made up the Snape library.

Crack!  Severus jumped as something stung his shoulders, ducking reflexively as another blow landed on his back.  Growling in disgust, he cast _Protego_ over himself and turned to where his Grandmother’s vengeful spirit was brandishing the riding crop wildly.  Sneering at her, he folded his arms and all but dared her to hit him again.  The spirit seemed to grow denser and flew at him with renewed vigour, flailing and slashing furiously until it realised there was very little effect.

Veraline Snape glared back at her grandson, realising her non-corporeal form was no match for the boy’s physical body but her tongue was more than a match for his mind.  She smiled thinly as she chose to address him in High Tongue; after all, he was holding the right books for it.

“So, less than offal, you have dared to return?  Why have you stolen the children’s books from him I found worthy to bestow them upon?”

“You gave them to Tom Riddle?  Oh, I see.  And what did he give you to gain them?” Severus asked, almost casually.

“Blood for blood, the old man’s life for the privilege of entering my presence.  Life for life, the life of a woman for a lesson in life twisting.  Soul for soul, the use of a soul for the preparing of his soul.  Flesh for Flesh, the consuming of flesh to preserve his flesh.”  The ectoplasmic figure pulsed with gloating as it floated closer and leered into his face.  “You are such a fool, you useless piece of filth, you offer yourself and your ‘love’ and it is taken and used and we laugh at your naivety as we harness your power.  ‘ _I love you, Tom, ooh, ooh, fuck my arse until I bleed and take my life’s essence into you as I am nothing without you_ ’.  You are nothing at all!  Pathetically groping for something more than you are, but you can never be anything but an imperfect tool for the use of men greater than you will ever be, crawling mewling gutter worm!”

Severus felt all the old insecurities and fears claw at his guts but refused to allow her to see how much her words were affecting him as he straightened and smiled, as cheerful a smile as he could produce with what seemed real amusement twinkling in his eye.  “You are so very funny, Grandmother, you caper and rattle, so ineffective and animated, like a shadow puppet on the wall of reality.  Do you think your words can touch me anymore?  Do you think you can change what passes between Tom and I with your jealous prating?  I think not.”  The formal cadences rolled off his tongue hissing and spitting like a cobra’s dance.

“You think not?” Veraline repeated sarcastically.  “Observe and despair,” she gloated as a misty scene appeared on the wall.

_Tom Riddle stood in his characteristic pose, hands on hips, a crooked smile on his face as the ghostly image of a ghost raged before him._  Severus smiled slightly as his lover gestured and the ghost was silenced quite involuntarily.  Tom was speaking now and Severus had to strain to hear the faint voices, echoes of an echo in the silence of the ancient house.  _“You taught Severus to speak the language and to use the magic and I want that power.  I have his heart and his soul and now I want his knowledge but it would be even better coming from you.”_

_“And what’s in it for me?” Veraline’s image demanded haughtily._

_“You may have his husk when I have finished with it.  He gives himself to me freely and eventually he will have nothing left for me.  He will become useless and then I will discard him and you may have what is left.”_

_“What use would a discarded and used piece of offal be to me?”_

_“You know the rituals and the spells, he is flesh of your flesh, much as you hate to acknowledge it, and he is blood of your blood and bone of your bone.  Once I have consumed his soul, you may enter the flesh and reanimate it, giving a home to your soul once again.”_

_“How can I trust you, a dealer in Black Arts and demon worship?”_

_Tom’s shadow on the wall reached into his robes and found his wand, opening a vein and spilling his blood with the ritual words of a Wizard’s Binding, selling his lover to his grandmother by blood and magic._

As the images faded, Severus drew a deep breath and shook his head pityingly, a crooked smile bending his lips into a sneer as he faced his grandmother across the expanse of dusty floorboards.  “You know, I almost believed you right up until the end.  A Binding of that magnitude leaves scars, Grandmother, as well you know, and if Tom had received a scar of that _magnitude_ , don’t you think I would have noticed it?”

Veraline cackled and flew at his head, making him duck reflexively.  “You don’t even know what he looks like so how the Hell would you know, you blockheaded, love blinded fool?  Try opening your eyes instead of your legs next time you see him, a revealing spell might just do it, but I doubt it!”  She swept over his head then turned back briefly, a transparent hand pointing a bony finger at his nose.  “Flesh of my flesh, seed of my seed, bone of my bone, blood of my blood, I don’t think so!  I would rather rot in Hell than inhabit that ugly body of yours!”

“It can be arranged!” Severus said flatly, a wealth of promise in his tone.

Veraline merely cackled and disappeared into the wall.

 

oo0oo

 

_Little Hangleton_

 

Lord Voldemort sat on his throne in the decaying confines of the Riddle House at Little Hangleton and worried at the Prophecy Severus had brought to him with all the intensity of a rabid dog.  “ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal…”_

What did it mean?  Which July’s crop of children?  This year’s, last year’s, next year’s?  If it was this year’s did that mean he would have to look out in the future?  Should he dispose of next year’s crop by killing every woman he found pregnant in October and November?  But the first line stated that the one with the power to vanquish him approaches.  This implied that the child was already conceived, if not born.  So perhaps those planning a child could be ignored for the time being.

If it was this year’s crop, he had better see that his representatives at the Ministry broke into the records and gathered him some names and addresses.  He was reasonably certain that there were very few children due to be born this year.  For some reason there had been fewer marriages and fewer families planned so therefore there were fewer children to be born.  

However, he had a reasonable idea that the child was already born, born to those who had already defied him.  Who had the audacity to deny him even once, never minds twice or thrice?  Only that bastard Dumbledore had dared say no to him with any sort of success.  Could it be one of Dumbledore’s little pets who were going to stand up to him?  If the line was not taken literally, if it was a collective defiance then it could be any one of Dumbledore’s little sycophants who had whelped.  Last year there had been a couple of brats born into that circle and there had been at least two of them born in July, had there not?

One couple were Aurors, weren’t they?  They would have power and would probably produce a fairly powerful child but never someone strong enough to defeat him.  Still, the child might have the _potential_ to grow strong enough to ‘upset his harmony’, which would be extremely annoying in a gnat attack sort of way.  Longbottom was an old family, well entrenched in the northern reaches of his potential kingdom and Emily Longbottom was a total cow who had sent his representative off with a hex that came very close to the Dark Arts.  Ah, old stock like Emily were invaluable, but they just did not have the flexibility to get with the plan and would probably have to be broken rather than bent to his will, such a pity!  Still, Family Longbottom had denied him which put them in the running as the potential fulfillers of the prophecy.

The other child was a mere half-blood, a Mudblood mixture from the Potter stock and the creature he took up with after he had been offered much better breeding stock by an agent.  A half-blood might grow up to be a problem.  After all, if he was in any way honest with himself, he was technically a half-blood, but his connection to the founder over-rode that small defect and compensated beautifully for it.  But wasn’t there a rumour that the Potters could also trace their ancestry back to the founders, to Godric Gryffindor of all people.  It was just a rumour but it would bear checking out.  And hadn’t that Quidditch playing idiot also refused his indirect offer of sponsorship just a few months ago?  That made two denials, did it not?  Three times denied was what the line read but still, he hadn’t won his battles by striking prematurely.  There was a lot of research to be done before he made up his mind and he had the perfect tool to do that research for him.  Yes, the most perfect and unsuspected tool which was so ironic it was exalting!

Smiling to himself, Lord Voldemort continued to make plans for his rise to power.

 

oo0oo

 

_Malfoy Manor_

 

“Me, me, _me_!”

Severus grinned and bent to pick up the small but persistent blond clinging to his leg.  “Demanding little stinker, aren’t you?” he commented and gently batted an exploratory hand out of his ear.  “What do you want, young Master Draco?”

A stream of insistent and earnest baby-talk followed making Severus nod and smile as his godson poked and prodded, trying to pick the buttons off his collar.  Narcissa rolled her eyes when Severus nodded seriously; concentrating as if the child was giving him the secrets of the universe instead of a lot of drool and soggy fingerprints.

“One assumes it can be arranged,” Severus finally replied, making the baby laugh and hug his neck.

“Oh, honestly, Severus, you spoil the child outrageously!  How on earth can you even pretend to take him seriously, he’s just a baby and has no real language skills,” the woman burst out, jealous that her son seemed to pay more attention to the younger man than he did to her, his mother.  “Put him down, he has legs for a reason, you know?”

Smirking, Severus put the baby on the ground and steadied him until he gained his precarious balance then allowed the child to clutch his robes as they made their way back to the conversational arrangement of furnishings in the Malfoy family drawing room.  Draco staggered and swayed but managed to walk the whole distance under his own steam, plopping onto his nappy on the rug before his piled toys.

“My dear Narcissa, he is a Malfoy, _of course_ you must take him seriously,” Severus told her as he settled in a chair near her and crossed his legs elegantly.

For a second Narcissa looked mutinous then she giggled, the tension building between them dissipating instantly.  They sat and gossiped comfortably for some time, Narcissa making no comment when Draco crawled into Severus’ lap and drifted off to sleep, a thumb firmly plugged into his mouth.  The pop of a house-elf finally broke into the quiet afternoon, the small creature bobbing its head in deference.

“Lord Voldemort is telling us he is coming in a moment,” the elf announced, making Narcissa blink and quickly grab her wand to straighten the room up, banishing Draco’s abandoned toys to the nursery and the tea things to the kitchens.

“Do you want me to take Draco upstairs?” Severus asked, rising to his feet as the young woman fussed and fumed.

“Not on my account, Severus,” the smooth, well-known voice replied from the doorway, and both adults turned to bow.  “Oh, nothing so formal, my dears,” Lord Voldemort said with a smile Severus had learned boded no good for someone.  “Is Lucius here?”

“Oh, my Lord, I’m so sorry, he is at the office,” Narcissa gushed hurriedly, offering their Lord a chair and summoning fresh tea, a whisky decanter and some of Lucius’ best wines for his refreshment.  “I can send an elf for him immediately.”

The Lord smiled, patting her hand as he took the seat she offered and gently pulled her down beside him.  “Now my dear, don’t fuss so.  Severus, didn’t you say you had some potion ingredients to buy this afternoon?  Humm, might be a good time to do your shopping.”

“As my Lord commands,” Severus bowed, careful not to disturb the baby in his arms as he Apparated.

Narcissa blushed and fluttered her eyelids as the Lord turned his sleepy gaze on her fully.  “Now, my dear, what can you tell me about--”

 

oo0oo

 

_The London Apartment_

 

Draco did not stir as Severus laid him on the sofa and selected books from his library.  If he was to buy potion ingredients then he would buy them with a very specific, glamour-breaking potion in mind, he decided with a grim smile.  He did not want to credit his Grandmother’s words with any hint of truth, but, in all fairness to the old witch, she had never really lied to him so why would she start now?

None of the normal spells or potions would be powerful enough to open such an intricately crafted glamour, of that he was certain.  Tom was a powerful wizard and Severus had a feeling he had been dabbling where it was not wise to tread, not wise at all.  Although his grandmother had tried to beat and train his conscience into a pliable and pitifully impotent voice in the wilderness of his consciousness, it had not happened.  His conscience was fully functional and had some very strictly held ideas of its own that would not allow him to stand by complacently and allow another to trade in the souls of innocents.  If pushed hard enough, Severus would admit that the creation of _Inferi_ was abhorrent to him, that it went against his grain and the practice of human sacrifice for the same gain was distasteful.  Torture he could take or leave, as long as it was not of an innocent.  However, the stealing of his soul and his body was definitely a non-event!

He had finished mentally composing his shopping list and was writing it out when Draco finally stirred and wanted a drink, clean pants and then to play.  A quick spell took care of the basic needs, his house-elf quickly popped to Malfoy and came back with clean clothes and very soon, young Master Malfoy was ready to hit Diagon Alley on his first proper shopping trip with his favourite Godfather.

 

oo0oo

 

_Diagon Alley_

 

Diagon Alley basked in the warm June sunshine, the sun sparking flashes of pure rainbow from the shop windows that lined both sides of the street.  Draco was fascinated, pointing, squealing and laughing when he saw something he liked.  Indulgently, Severus approached various windows so his small charge could peer in, pressing nose and sticky fingers onto the glass.  One or two shop-keepers made as if to protest then backed away smartly when they realised who was holding the little brat up against their glass.

With some forethought, Severus strolled into the nearest toy shop and spent quite a few moments allowing Draco to browse the merchandise until he seemed to become permanently attached to a toy snitch that whirred and buzzed and allowed itself to be caught on a regular basis.  Once Draco was happily engaged in trying to catch the toy, Severus made his way to Robinton the Apothecary and pushed into the cool, dim interior.  A clerk looked up indignantly at the childish squeals of delight, his eyes going quite round before he scuttled away to fetch the Head Clerk.  Mr Jarmes hurried out brushing his hair down and bowing so low his chin almost bounced off his knees.

“Potions Master Snape, so good to see you again, it’s been too long….  How may Robintons serve you today?”

Severus reached into his robes and pulled out a parchment which Draco immediately lunged for and stuffed straight into his mouth much to Severus’ surprise.  Blinking, Severus carefully removed small, ripping fingers from the list of ingredients he wanted and shook his head as Draco began to scream furiously.

“Oh goodness, poor little baby…  Here, give him…  Oh dear, is he hurt?” the various sales people were quick to ask as Severus struggled with the squirming child.

“Master Malfoy, you will cease that row immediately!” Severus commanded in low, even tones and Draco stopped his squalling to listen.  “There are some things in this world that do not belong to you and my shopping list is one of them.  When you are old enough to have your own shopping list, I promise I will not be so badly behaved over it.”

Draco tilted his head on one side then grinned and blew a bubble before trying to catch his little snitch again.

“Humm, typical Malfoy,” Severus muttered under his breath in amusement then passed the soggy list over with aplomb.  “Have these things delivered to my London address,” he instructed before leaving, a clerk hurrying to open the door.  Draco peered over his shoulder and waved enthusiastically before grabbing a handful of Severus’ hair and giving it a good yank.

“Ow, you little stinker!  Let go please,” Severus said firmly, trying to disentangle the small fingers of the gleefully giggling child.

“Got your hands full there, Severus, my lad,” a cheerful voice said from behind, and he turned slightly to see Lily Potter laughing at him, her own son slung on her hip.  “So whose baby have you stolen this time?  Is this a habit of yours, picking up stray babies?”

“Draco, let go and show your manners please,” Severus muttered between clenched teeth and the little stinker did let go, turning to grin at the lady then blow a distinct raspberry at the baby who was glaring back through his mother’s very green eyes.  “This is my godson, Draco Malfoy, who has been particularly annoying and has grabbed at everything in sight.  Master Malfoy, meet a friend of mine, Madame Lily Potter and Master Harry Potter.”

Lily grinned and dropped a slight curtsy to which Severus bowed slightly, but Draco lunged and grabbed a handful each of Lily’s red and Harry’s black hair, hanging on tightly until the baby screamed and Lily yelped.

“Oh Merlin, I am so sorry, Lily, keep still I’ve….”

A new set of hands reached up and carefully released the fingers from Harry’s hair and rubbed his head consolingly.  Lily managed to free her own hair, and Severus stepped back prudently before realising they had been joined by none other than Remus Lupin, looking tired and rumpled.  “Lupin,” he acknowledged the werewolf warily.

“Hello, Severus, nice to see you again.  And you must be Master Malfoy, hello there.”

Draco immediately hid his face in Severus’ shoulder shyly.

“Typical Malfoy,” Lily muttered mutinously, checking her baby’s head for damage but there was none and Remus had already wiped the baby tears away.  “You owe us an ice cream for that, Severus Snape!  Come along, both of you.  I won’t settle for less than Florean Fortescue's famous banana split!”

Exchanging bemused glances with an openly amused Lupin, Severus followed in her wake and sat at the table when Lily pointed to a chair imperiously.  “Now tell me all about what you have been doing these last few months.  Last time I saw you was at that ill-fated concert you bundled us out of, and don’t you make hushing notions at me, Severus Snape.  I want some answers and I want them immediately.  Oh, and I will have the banana split too.”

Ice cream ordered, Severus continued to glare at the woman who failed miserably to be intimidated, as per usual.  “Look, it’s not safe for you to know anything more than you do already, Lily, believe me.  I got you out at great personal risk and I don’t want to have to waste my efforts because I had to _Obliviate_ you right here in the middle of Diagon Alley, understood?  Now, eat your ice cream and try not to spill it all on yourself again.”

Lily pulled an outraged face but ended up in giggles when she remembered the incident Severus was referring to involving Snape versus Sirius and James, a triple-decker choc fest cone and a banishing spell.  Remus laughed softly too, having been on the periphery of the splash zone the cone made when it hit both of his friends.  Lily had been on the other side and had received her share of the sticky, melted mess.  “Now that was funny,” she remarked, feeding the baby a spoonful of ice cream and laughing at the faces he pulled.  Draco didn’t fare much better until he realised it was sweet and yummy and then he went for it with both hands.  “Merlin, that’s one grabby baby!”

“He’s a Malfoy, it runs in the family,” Remus teased gently.  “I have to go, Lily; will you be alright on your own for a while?”

“Sure, Remus, Severus will watch over us, won’t you, Sevvy?”

“Don’t call me Sevvy,” Severus reprimanded, but his growl lacked impact when he had a mouthful of strawberry ice cream.  Lily just laughed at him.

It was the oddest afternoon Severus had ever spent – and he had spent some odd afternoons in the past – chatting with Lily Potter, wife of one of his worst enemies and her son, while nursing the next generation of Malfoys and stopping him making mudpies of the ice cream remains.  They spoke of many things, including expectations past and present.  Lily didn’t press her need for explanations which made Severus more willing to give partial and obscure information, liberally hidden in gossip and innuendo.  The woman was most impressed when Severus told her he had applied to Hogwarts for a job and Headmaster Dumbledore had not said no but offered him the Potions position.

“Do you even want to be a school teacher, Severus?  I thought you were the mad scientist type, locked up in your laboratory with puffs of coloured smoke issuing out of the windows and from under the doors,” she giggled, especially when Severus looked puzzled by her reference.  “It’s a Muggle thing, don’t worry.  But honestly, Severus, would you be happy?”

Severus sighed.  “What has happy to do with it?” he asked softly.  “I would have facilities to do my research in and if the price is teaching dim-witted children not to blow themselves up, then so be it.”  He sighed again then half smiled, half sneered.  “Only you would ask if I was happy, do you know?  How odd.”

Lily shook her head and was about to comment when a house-elf popped into being at Severus’ knee, a neat black pillowcase slung jauntily around it’s very thin frame, the Snape Crest picked out in gold thread on one corner.  “Master, Lucius Malfoy is asking where you are and is sitting at the flat waiting for you.  He is wanting his dinner and your presence now, Master,” the house-elf said apologetically, nodding deferentially to Lily and grinning as Draco tried to grab one of its ears.

“No, Draco, don’t harass Uncle Severus’ elves, there’s a good baby.  Make the nursery ready for Draco, Nimbil, and have dinner prepared for two.  Tell Lucius I will be along in a few moments, please.”

The house-elf nodded and bowed, grinning from ear to ear as it disappeared with a pop.  Lily shook her head and grinned at the dark man who had just cleaned his charge’s face without a wand.  “You are truly an odd-bod, Sevvy, you treat a house-elf with more common courtesy than you do most people,” she commented as she used her wand on Harry’s sticky face and hands.

Severus sneered as he rose and settled the now sleepy Draco on his hip.  “She serves without complaint and does as I ask when I ask it, what more could anyone want, and don’t call me Sevvy,” he reiterated as he Apparated away.

 

oo0oo

 

_Confrontation_

 

Lucius was in a foul mood and had already hexed half the ornaments on the mantle shelf leaving the smoking remains in mute testimony to their destruction.  He glared as Severus Flooed in from Diagon Alley, snarling when he realised it was his son in his lover’s arms.  “Where the hell were you, Severus, I have been cooling my heels here for hours and I’m starving!  Do you know that Lord Voldemort is seducing my wife even as we speak?  What are you going to do about it?  Well?”

Severus shook his head in exasperation, rolling his eyes as he handed Draco over to stop Lucius doing any more damage to his property.  Lucius accepted the bundle almost absentmindedly as he paced the hearth rug ranting and raving.  Ignoring his tantrum, Severus set about repairing some of the damage and was half way through when the fire roared, billowing smoke over the ceiling.  Even Lucius jumped back in fright as their Lord stormed out of the hearth, his eyes flashing red as he glared around.

“You, you traitorous little bastard!  How dare you stand there staring at me, Judas!” he roared wildly.

Both Severus and Lucius flinched away from his fury, unfortunately Lucius stumbling over the fire irons making them clatter to the ground.  Lord Voldemort swung around his anger suddenly refocusing and he snapped up his wand as fast as a striking snake.  “ _Cru --_ ”

“No!  You will not harm my godson!”  The roar was deep and furious; reverberating in the enclosed space, making both men start as wandless magic seized the drawn wand and wrenched it out of Lord Voldemort’s hand.

Shocked, Lucius grabbed a handful of Floo powder and yelped ‘Malfoy Manor’ disappearing instantly as Lord Voldemort roared inarticulately and advanced on his opponent with hands clawed ready to physically strike.  Severus stepped back, giving Lucius plenty of time to make his escape then tossed Tom’s wand aside to counter the open handed blow he aimed at Severus’ face.  Wizards rarely came to fisticuffs once past adolescence, but both men were too furious to even think of summoning magic, instead relying on nature’s weapons as they punched and clawed at each other as they wrestled for dominance.

Neither was the strongest wizard in the world and soon both were panting for breath so hard they literally fell apart on the hearthrug, fingers still fisted in each other’s robes.  Slowly, a finger at a time, Tom uncurled one hand and touched his neck where two ragged punctures curved over his collarbone.

“You bit me,” he complained, examining the blood on his fingers incredulously.

“Well, you punched me in the nose and broke it again!” Severus retaliated thickly, touching the offended member tenderly.  “What the hell do you think you were doing, attacking Lucius when he was holding Draco?  For Merlin’s sake, Tom, that was uncalled for.”

“I am your Lord; you will speak to me with respect, Snape!”

“You are not my Lord, Riddle, not in these rooms anyway!” Severus retaliated smartly, rolling to his knees and groaning as strained muscles protested.  Carefully, he unfolded until he stood on his own feet and chuffed a breath shaking his head in disbelief.  He held out a hand and helped drag Tom up, leaving him to regain his balance while he went to his workroom and fetched a healing potion or three.

Tom eyed the goblet Severus poured him warily but sipped it as Severus sipped his own share of the bottle’s contents without qualm.  “It was reported to me that you were consorting with the enemy in Diagon Alley today, openly and unashamedly!  I was naturally upset and wanted to know what gave you the right to desert me like that?”

“Desert you?  Tom, you fool, I was eating ice cream with an old school acquaintance and babysitting my godson while you, my lover, seduced his mother at her home.  What was I supposed to do?  Turn Lily into a toad in the middle of wizarding London and hang the consequences.  Gods, Tom, you are so paranoid at times!  Lily Potter has always stood as a friend, even when all her friends, including her husband, hated me.  She told me an interesting thing, there are only six children with birthdays in July, Harry, Neville Longbottom, Jasmine Brampton, Pansy Parkinson, Tatianna Ionella and Rupert Bowater.  Brampton and Ionella are out of the running as their birthdays are the second and the seventh of July respectively.  Parkinson is already yours so that leaves three who may fulfil the sense of the Prophecy.”

“Good intelligence, even though I knew most of it already.  Bowater is a new factor though.  Where does he come from?”

“His Father is the Wizengamot representative to Greece and his mother has just gone out to join him after the birth of their son.  He was born on the twenty-ninth of July so he is a real possibility,” Severus said thoughtfully, passing Tom his wand and shaking his head at the state of the room.  “Honestly, that was no way for two grown wizards to behave, now was it?” he complained fretfully as he sent a _Reparo_ charm to recover a broken table.

Tom stared at his wand then narrowed his eyes speculatively to where Severus bent over picking up a spill of something.  Then he smiled wryly, lowering the wand, perhaps not.  He dabbed his neck again, the sting making him hiss in a breath and Severus turn to the sound.  “This blasted thing won’t stop bleeding,” he complained huffily.

“Damn!  Sometimes I… well, no matter, let me look.”  Severus hurried across to examine the two ragged puncture marks, dabbing at them with his shirt cuff, then pressing harder to see if the bleeding would stop.  It wouldn’t so he told Tom to put some pressure on them while he hurried off and brought a salve from his workroom.  It took a few moments but eventually the two ragged tears healed over and left two tiny white scars behind.

“It seems you have a few more vampire tendencies than you realised,” Tom teased but not entirely kindly.

“You always knew that,” Severus reminded him equally harshly.

“So I did.  When are you to leave and take up your new position at Hogwarts?” he demanded in a complete change of subject.

“I have to report to the school by the fifteenth of August for orientation and to settle in before the beginning of the new school year.”

“Good.  Once you are settled, contact me and I will direct you to what I want you to find for me,” Tom told him, heading for the fire before he turned, one foot on the hearth.  “Do not fail me, Severus Snape, or you will wish you were never born,” he warned menacingly, a tone he had never taken with Severus before.

“Of course not, _my Lord_ ,” Severus replied sarcastically, but Tom was gone in a flurry of green flames and soot.

 

oo0oo

 

_Decision_

 

Severus sighed and hurried to his workroom to pick up the small crystal vial with a tiny, tiny amount of blood in the bottom.  Wandless magic was untraceable and usually unnoticeable to even the most paranoid wizard.  The tiny amount of blood he had gathered from his sleeve would be the final ingredient in the potion he had been toying with brewing ever since he had spoken to his grandmother’s ghost.  The fight had added the impetus to the brewing and Tom’s parting remarks had been the last deciding factor in the arguments for and against the brewing.  Severus had to know if Tom was planning to destroy his soul for magical gain before he could make a rational decision on what he was to do with the monster he seemed to have created.

Sighing deeply, resignedly, Severus lit his first cauldron.

 

 

 


	21. Chapter 21: Paying the Piper

  
Author's notes: Art in this chapter by Thanfiction. Although originally intended for a completely different part of the fic, it seemed fitting where it is now.  


* * *

21 – Paying the Piper

 

 

This final suite of rooms was the biggest of the three Albus had shown him consisting of a large general room, a bedroom and a bathroom.  It was not as conveniently placed to the office he was to occupy but it was closer to the laboratory he had been allocated.  The place was bare of furnishings, windowless and empty, the flagstones still rough at the edges of the room.  It had obviously not been inhabited for a very long time or even very often, but it was the most welcoming place so far.

“Thank you, Headmaster, this suite will be perfect,” Severus assured the older man as he stepped further into the room and surveyed the fireplace, already populating the walls with his bookshelves and the floor with a thick wool rug from his flat.

“Are you sure, Severus, it’s rather dark and lonely.  There are no windows either,” Albus said worriedly, not having expected the man to take this particular set of rooms as he had only offered it as a contrast to make the other sets of rooms look more desirable.  Still, he had known how contrary Severus could be so he should have expected something like this.

“It is cool and comfortable.  I expect the temperature rarely changes down here so it will be no problem to heat in winter and I will not have to waste energy cooling it in summer,” Severus replied absently as he opened the bedroom door and approved the size of the room and of the bathroom.  “I wonder if I could put a shower in here.  I rather prefer them to baths as an everyday solution to cleanliness,” he mused, eyeing the space assessingly.

“You could certainly try, but the castle is somewhat reluctant to bend to the inhabitants’ wishes,” Albus twinkled, patting his arm.  “Now then, the school has lots of furniture stored here and there about the place if you want to use it, or you can bring in your own furnishings from the outside.”

“I have a house-elf, can she come here too?”

“Er, I’m not sure she would want to, house-elves tend to be a little territorial sometimes, but if she does then I see no problem,” Albus assured him.  “So, how long do you think it will take you to get settled in?”

“A day or two should see the bulk of the move completed.  Most of my affairs are in order but there are some things that cannot be ignored.  Still, there is not much left to do.  I assume teachers are not confined to the castle during the term time as the children are,” he questioned thoughtfully, hoping the older man did not catch the significance behind his question.

Albus’ twinkling eyes became shrewd.  “No-o, but we do prefer staff to be here as there are supervisory tasks, patrol duties and student coaching as well as detention sessions to monitor.”

“Humm, very well, I shall make suitable alternative arrangements where I can.”

Albus did not comment but remained thoughtfully silent for quite some time.

 

oo0oo

 

The bed was huge, a carved ebony head and foot board depicting scenes from Russian folk lore and spring fertility rites.  The posts were covered in carved vines and wheat sheaves supporting brocaded Chinese silk curtains in shades of green and silver.  The enormous bedstead had been part of his mother’s dowry and had been discarded and moved to an obscure storeroom by his father on her death.  Severus had always known where it was stored and had rescued it when he began furnishing his flat.  He could vaguely remember curling up with his mother in her suite when he was very young and having her sing to him when thunderstorms had banged and thumped around the Manor’s turrets.  The old feather mattress had long fallen to rats so a purely Muggle mattress of the finest design, custom built to seven feet long had been purchased and installed on the enormous seventeenth century frame.  Three extra house-elves had to come and help Nimbil transport the heavy antique to Hogwarts Because, as a treasured possession, Severus insisted that it was one of the first things to go.

Most of his bookshelves had been transported and all of his books, carefully arranged back on the shelves by the almost anal retentive Nimbil.  He was also taking his expandable dining suite that went from an intimate two person size to big enough to seat ten people in comfort for a full course banquet with all the requisite cutlery and glassware.  It too was an antique but not as significant as the bed.  After a lot of thought he had not taken his sofa and wing chairs, instead picking a suite up from Snape Manor that was equally comfortable but held no memories of any sort, an anonymous dark leather suite from one of the guest apartments.

He had Flooed into Malfoy Manor and picked up a lot of his clothes and books from Lucius, accepting his teasing and assistance to move the huge amounts of papers, magazines, books and multiple bookshelves to Hogwarts.  It was amazing how many things accumulated when a person lived anywhere for any length of time and he had been living in the guest suite at Malfoy Manor for a very long time.

“Have you any wall space left?” Lucius asked as the last Malfoy house-elf left with a pop and an armload of vials from Severus’ laboratory under the Manor’s main wing.  All his private stock of ingredients had been moved to his new laboratory under the Slytherin wing of Hogwarts and carefully locked up under an almost unbreakable spell for safety.  A few things could not go; simply because they were so Dark that the wards on Hogwarts bounced even a house-elf in the course of its duties back to its starting point.

Severus smirked.  “Probably a clear foot or two next to the wall-mounted manacles,” he teased then laughed aloud at Lucius’ interested look.  “It’s Hogwarts, Lucius, even the dungeons are sterilised clean and swept.  Not a torture instrument or a speck of blood left to be seen.”

“Oh well, it’s the thought that counts.  Will you be alright up there in the wilds of Scotland and amongst the wild animals of the Hogwarts school population?”

“Oh, I think I will survive.  I am letting my flat out as I won’t need it and a couple of the Dark Lord’s overseas friends want to be closer to the action so they move in next week.  I am having Nimbil bring down furniture from the Manor for them.  So, tonight is our last night at home and I am cooking dinner for a change,” Severus mused thoughtfully until Lucius burst out laughing.

“I hope you aren’t planning to poison our Lord with your concoctions,” he teased.

“I’ll have you know I am a very fine cook!” Severus protested before he recognised the glint of amusement in Lucius’ eyes and grinned back.  “Enough of this inappropriate levity, I have shellfish to prepare!”

Lucius’ laughter was still ringing in his ears as he Apparated away.

 

oo0oo

 

The workroom was empty of cauldron, vial and utensil, except for the pitiful cluster left on the main table.  A vial of straw-pale fluid sparkled in the light of the torches like the finest French champagne.  The potion had taken a full forty hours to brew and simmer, the ingredients almost hair raising and there had been incantations to say in High Court, just to complicate matters.  It amused him that his Grandmother’s teachings were being put to such a use, but it saddened him too.  If he had done his work well, then he may or may not discover information he really wasn’t sure he wanted.

It had taken quite a lot of research to even find the necessary quantities of each ingredient to be used in the potion.  Potions that opened one mind to another were usually kept closely guarded secrets by their creators as they were indeed a double-edged sword.  To make the task even more difficult, Snapes tended to be a paranoid lot and his three times great-grandfather was no exception to that rule.  Consequently the effects and side effects were not particularly documented so, while Severus knew the potion would join his mind to Tom’s, he was not sure how it would happen, what he would find or what side-effects to expect.  He shook his head to remove the conflicting thoughts.

Next to it was a slip of parchment with a single word written upon its creamy surface.  _Mealich_.  It was a meaningless collection of letters but imbued in the single word was all memories of brewing the small vial of champagne-coloured fluid that rested so innocuously beside it.  The trick to hiding memories and information under a single key word was something he had only read about in an obscure book by another ancestor but he had decided to try it as it would be a potent tool if he was to spy on Dumbledore for any length of time.  Besides, he didn’t dare let Tom find out - even accidentally - he had been trying to mentally steal his secrets.  Tom was not a very forgiving soul at the best of times and being his lover would not spare Severus from the worst of his wrath should he discover that truth.

On the other side of the paper was a small vial of blood, ruby red and viscous, his own blood mixed with the small sample of Tom’s blood he had collected the week before.  The two bloods intertwined would personalise the champagne potion so that his mind would be connected to Tom’s in the most intimate way possible, to the exclusion of everything else.  Once he decided to mix the blood and the potion, his path would be set in stone with no chance of escaping the consequences, and again he wondered if he really wanted to face those consequences.  Did he really care if Tom was going to steal his soul or if it was just one of his Grandmother’s constant barrages of threats and taunts?

The final vial seemed empty, only a faint hint of mist at the bottom.  If he took the potion he would have at least an hour before it kicked in, plenty of time to remove the memory, seal it in the vial and not even Tom would realise he had brewed or taken such a potent mind-altering potion.  If all went well then Tom would never know his barriers had been breached and he would never realise Severus had more information than he should have.  If it was bad news for Severus, he would take steps to protect himself.  If it was good news for Severus, he would have his Grandmother’s ghost exorcised at the very first opportunity.  He stood staring at the trio of vials for a very long time before he slowly reached forward.

It looked like champagne, it smelled like fruity elixir and when he added the blood it turned a deep, sparkling crimson, reminiscent of the beautiful burgundies of France.  Carefully capping the blood vial without spilling a trace of the smear left on the glass, he raised the potion and swallowed half very swiftly.  It didn’t taste too bad; a little metallic on his tongue but nothing like as foul as even a common analgesic.  He drank the rest and capped the vial before calling to Nimbil.

The house-elf listened to her master, nodding vigorously as she took the empty vials and the letter, waiting patiently until he drew out the memory and capped the crystal tube.  Reaching forward, the house-elf slipped it from his fingers, reminded him he was preparing dinner for two and then vanished softly away.  Severus frowned, glanced around the empty room then shrugged and hurried off to the kitchen to finish preparing his dinner for Tom.

 

oo0oo

 

“Oysters and champagne?”  Tom grinned, taking a sip of the very fine Moet.  “Are you planning to seduce me, my Severus?”

“Probably repeatedly.”  Severus grinned back, turning the plate and offering the golden browned Mornay for his guest’s pleasure.  “I wasn’t sure how you like your oysters so I made three types.”

“I like my oysters any way they come,” Tom assured him, leaning forward to kiss him lightly before selecting a shell and feeding him the plump juicy shellfish with a seductive smile.

The food, the little touches and sweet kisses were all designed to relax and entice but something niggled at the back of Severus’ mind, even as he licked Tom’s fingers clean of juice.  His stomach felt just a little bit noticeable too, not painful, not uncomfortable, just in his awareness as internal organs should not be.  Dismissing the fancy, he rose and took away the plate of empty shells, smiling as Tom rose and followed him to the kitchen, both champagne flutes in his hands.  The older wizard hitched his hip onto the counter as Severus opened the oven and pulled out a tray with two perfectly risen soufflés on it with a triumphant smile.

“Well, that is impressive,” Tom congratulated, carefully closing the oven door as Severus bore their next course out triumphantly to the table.  He held the chair while Severus sat down then hurried around to place his napkin on his lap as Severus placed his soufflé in front of him.  It was delicious, so light and fluffy that Tom barely noticed when Severus stopped eating; pressing his stomach as if it pained him.

Severus frowned then shook his head a fraction as the odd spasm passed, tasting his salmon soufflé and nodding in pleasure, it was perfect but there was a very slightly metallic flavour that lingered on the back of his tongue with odd intensity.  Dismissing it, he continued to eat; taking real pleasure in Tom’s very evident enjoyment of the food he had spent so much time preparing.

“If I’d known you could cook like this, Severus, I would have insisted you do it more often,” Tom laughed, glancing up at his dining partner with a smile that metamorphosed into a frown when he saw the fixed expression on Severus’ face.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I feel… odd,” Severus said with a puzzled frown then whipped his head around as something moved in the corner of his eye.

“What is it, Severus?”

“I don’t know, I thought I saw something run across the floor, but….”  He opened his mouth to complete the sentence when a massive cramp doubled him over, making him moan in pain.

Tom rushed to his side as Severus’ head slammed into the table, catching him and easing him to the floor.  “Bloody hell, the oysters….  You might have gotten a tainted one, my Severus,” he gasped as the boy tried to curl into an even tighter knot.

“No, I got them fresh…” Severus tried to blink and focus on his lover between the rolling waves of pain, then he felt his eyes expanding as if the eyeballs were going to explode.  He almost shrieked as he fell forward, alien memories and thoughts slamming into his mind, flashes of scenes and conversational snippets, bombarding him with ruthless intensity.  He mewled in agony as his sight became haloed, everything limned in a blinding haze that flashed rainbow hued knives at him, slashing through his brain, tearing at the fabric of his reality.  A small part of his brain realised he was falling into Tom’s unconscious mind just before it engulfed the last vestiges of his control and tossed him adrift in the turbulent sea of seething emotion so foreign to his own regimented self. 

_‘ **God what an ugly little bastard, he should just die!** ’ The man stared down at the bloodied and skinned carcass on the bed.  “What was young Malfoy thinking of?’_

_‘ **How does he do that?  How much magic does he have?** ’ Wandless magic used without any real effort, it was not possible, it should be draining and exhausting but the boy just did it without any after-effects._

**_‘Watch him; is he more powerful than me?’_** _The curses flying around the skirmishing factions just bounced off Severus’_ Protego _without effect, his protection was as strong as any Tom had ever witnessed and yet the boy was unaware of his own strength.  How dare he be so invulnerable?_

_‘ **Kill him!  He’s dangerous!’** How dare he argue with me in front of others, I am his Lord and master, he will do as I say and he will not question me.  I will tear his liver out, smash him, crush him, how dare he even think to cross wills with me, I am the Lord, he is a worm, crawling in the dirt at my feet.  I hate him, I loath him, I want his power!_

**_‘Don’t kill him, turn him, make him dependent, and woo him, harness his magic, steal it, use it.  It’s a much better plan, much more subtle.’_ ** _Show him what he can do, make him over into your own image; warp him into the path you want him to follow.  He is a tricky little bastard but his mind is fast, use it to test your plans and sharpen them._

**_‘Look at him, all clinical detachment, torture will not turn him back, he needs something else.  Find the key, open his secrets.’_ ** _An apology sticks in the craw but sounds so sincere; a stroking hand, a gentle touch, sickening but necessary and cheaper than spells.  Acceptance again, coaxed back to compliance, the fool!_

_‘ **How dare he question me, I am his master, I own him!** ’  The demon coming out of the child’s sacrificed body, clawing and fighting to get free.  It rakes his face and only goes after Severus chanted the words of the banishing ritual.  The superior smirk when he turned the body into a rabbit and fried it, disgusting!_

**_‘Fuck the little whore, make him dependent on your love, don’t muzzle him, he will do it himself._ ** _’  Pet him, pat him, make him dependent, encourage him to talk while listening and learning, steal his secrets and make his strength your own.  Show him some little signs of favour, give him the public acknowledgement and respect he craves.  It costs nothing and it brings the others to heel, a double benefit._

**_‘He craves love and acceptance; he is so desperate for it you can taste it!’_ ** _Offer it to him and he will offer up his soul with a willingness that is only surpassed by his neediness of acceptance.  I can use a soul like this, totally and freely given will make it even more valuable to feed the demons._

**_‘How did he do that?  What did he do?  I want the knowledge, I crave it!’_ ** _Blood soaked and injured but still as strong as ever, his mind divided into three entities, each as powerful in its own right as the whole, the composite whole stronger than a wizard should really be.  He is both a Legilimens and an Occlumens of considerable natural ability and I want the secret to his learning for my very own.  I WANT IT!_

**_‘Mine, give me your magic.  Show me how you did that!  MINE!  I demand it!’_ ** _He has healed a beating heart with the ease of a master, I want that skill and that knowledge, I will kill him to possess it, or I will absorb him completely to get what is mine, it is mine, he is mine, my possession!_

**_‘Don’t steal it; he is naïve enough to give it willingly.’_ ** _A touch of the hand, a public acknowledgement of him as a lover, just a few scraps of notice before the masses and he melted, unable to hide his infatuation or should that be slavish devotion.  It was so easy to capture a heart that was willingly sacrificed._

**_‘I want it; I crave it, its mine, it’s mine!  How dare he have it and I do not.  Mine!’_ ** _They lay in bed, Severus crying and mewling like a kicked puppy, spilling his fear of his grandmother and her training methods, whining about the unfairness of it all but haemorrhaging information as unconsciously as he dripped fear-sweat._

**_‘Give me what I want, he is mine and I deserve it.’_ ** _The ghost of a malignant woman gibbered and capered before him, taunting and teasing, spewing poison, dangling the coveted information like a carrot just out of reach._

**_‘A deal, Bitch, teach me and I will not destroy you or let him exorcise you.’_ ** _Tom sent the ghost a vision of Severus laid out for the sacrifice, dead and disembowelled, his soul fed to demons to appease them and buy further power to be used as Tom saw fit.  He then sent a second vision of a triumphant Severus at Tom’s side, his Grandmother’s ghost fading into the nether-regions as the Master of Rites read the Banishment Ritual from the Snape Book of Service._

**_‘Love him?  Hah, what a laugh!  He is useful, when he stops being useful then he is nothing.’_ ** _Tom giving orders to Severus couched as requests and Severus dashing off to do as he was bidden like a well trained lackey, even if he disagreed with the method._

**_‘I own his soul and his body, he will kill for me and die for me and all it costs me is a kind word; the utterly pathetic excuse for a lovesick man-whore.’_ ** _Severus guarding Tom’s side, killing anything that got too close, his magic covering Tom without a thought for his own safety.  Tom using that protection, without ever thinking what it may have cost his lover to create the spells._

**_‘He is almost used up; his usefulness is almost at an end.  I have a new toy now._ ** _’  Severus clutching the baby and watching as Tom nuzzled up to Narcissa Malfoy, no censure crossing his lips, all held tightly behind his teeth as he left without protest.  The different taste of Narcissa’s white flesh and enslaved soul; sickeningly sweet after the tart mixture of Severus’ respect without fear._

**_‘I need only one more repository for my soul fragments.  You may have him, I will choose something else.’_ ** _Again the ghost of Grandmother taunting and bargaining for the use of Severus’ body after his soul was destroyed.  Tom had listened to the negotiations and agreed to the trade-off.  Severus was of no use once Tom had his knowledge and so he became a disposable item.  He would be given to his grandmother to dispose of as she wished, in exchange for a new body and soul to use to his discretion._

**_‘Don’t die now, I haven’t finished with you.  I need your body for a bargaining chip.’_ ** _Tom was knelt over the convulsing body of his lover, concerned yes, but only to the extent it might affect his bargain with Severus’ grandmother and the demons she kept at her beck and call._

  


  


  


  
  

Severus gasped like a landed fish, unable to process all the information that was bombarding him, too horrified to move, too terrified to break the connection or hear Tom’s voice over the biting, spitting, poisonous roar of his thoughts.  Pictures accompanied the over-voice, contempt and disgust, lust and hatred, amusement and sheer green jealousy controlling and colouring everything Tom thought.  Moments Severus treasured were twisted and destroyed by the new input from the strange connection they were sharing gave him.

Everything Tom had said, everything he had professed, every declaration of love was a lie, a useful way of moulding Severus to him, of binding his loyalty and magic to the cause.  He was nothing to Tom, just a useful tool to be used and discarded once its usefulness was over.  Tom did not love him, Tom used him and abused his trust and when he was finished with him, Tom planned to give him back to the only person Severus truly feared, his grandmother.  Turning, he tried to focus on the man hovering over him but was almost overwhelmed by the dizziness the movement caused.  When his head caught up with his mind he realised he was looking up at a stranger.  This stranger had a skull-like face, almost reptilian in a melted wax fashion.  Thin wisps of dark hair clung lankly to the high-domed skull and red, vertically pupiled eyes glared down from lash-less, almost lidless sockets while a pinkish tongue flicked out to wet lips so thin they were almost non-existent.  Was this the true appearance of his lover, this snake thing, this travesty of a man?  He felt a scream of unbelievable betrayal building behind his teeth as a second pair of very small hands began pulling at his lip, trying to open his mouth.

“Master Severus, Master Severus, please, please, drink this potion for Nimbil,” the small elf begged tearfully.

Severus managed to unclench his jaw long enough to swallow then whimpered again.  “Nimbil, take me to my bed,” he managed to gasp before a new wave of pain hit and he began to convulse.

The house-elf glanced fearfully at the older wizard who glared down at her, his eyes flashing red with fury and what looked like fear.  Nimbil saw exactly what her Master had seen and knew her time was over; this man was going to destroy her very, very soon!  The small elf did not want to leave her master but she saw it was necessary, that her life was the price that was needed to bring her master to safety.  It was a house-elf’s sacred duty to serve their Masters to the very best of their ability with everything they had, including their lives when necessary.  So be it!  She squeaked once then, shivering and trembling at the knowledge she had gained, she snapped her fingers and they vanished.  Tom stared down at the empty space in disbelief, then roared in inarticulate rage before springing up and Disapparating immediately.

 


	22. Chapter 22: The Bright White Light

22 - The Bright White Light

 

 

The whole office groaned and shook, a wave of unmitigated misery trembling through the very stones upon which they stood.  Wild, uncontrolled magic tore at the walls and raced in waves up the columns supporting the roof, infusing the very stones with its grief and mourning.  Albus surged to his feet almost tipping the tea tray into Minerva’s lap as he felt the first burst slam into his consciousness of Hogwarts.

“Good grief, Albus, what on earth is that?” Minerva demanded as even the portraits looked shocked.

“That is a soul in torment somewhere in the building, stronger than any I have felt during my tenure as Headmaster,” Albus replied hastily as he hurried out the door, the Transfigurations teacher hard on his heels.

The waves of wild magic beat at them trying to hold them back as they headed down the stairs to the dungeon regions but Dumbledore was the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the castle liked him, helping him move against the forces that tried to keep him away.  Disarrayed and windswept, the two teachers finally made it to the isolated section of the dungeons where doors banged and the stones wept, where the waves of grief and desolation were causing Minerva to weep uncontrollably even as she forced her way in behind Albus.

Nimbil had taken Severus’ last words very literally and brought him to his bed, the bed he had inherited from his mother.  The young man lay in a foetal curl, unmoving and wide-eyed as the house-elf battled against the uncontrolled waves of mourning that heralded the death of dreams.  There was no escape from the connection with Tom’s mind even though he was physically removed almost the whole country’s length away from his lover.  The potion was powerful and had at least another half an hour to go before the effect wore off completely.  What the Family notes and grimories did not mention was that the Dark Magic called up despair and disharmony, feeding on it and relishing the horror, terror and agony it caused; reinforcing itself with the negative power and magnifying the effect effortlessly.

Albus managed to make his way to the side of the huge bed and laid a gentle hand on the young man’s brow, fighting against the roiling emotions that battered at his well-protected mind.  Whatever had a grip on the young man’s mind was not letting go and made it almost impossible for Albus to get past the chemical barrier it had raised to make sure the potion was not neutralised prematurely, another twist of the Dark Blood magic that was not mentioned in the grimories.  The elf crouched on the mattress near Severus’ head nearly cast a banishing spell on the intruders but then recognised an ally in her hope of helping her master.

“What happened to him?” Albus asked of the house-elf who hunched in the lee of her master’s back.

“Master is taking a potion and is not being happy with the result.  Nimbil is giving him the solution as he instructed her but it is not going away very fast.”

“Ah.  Severus, Severus my boy, can you hear me?” Albus called softly, brushing the long black hair aside gently.  There was no response but by bending a little Dumbledore was able to make eye contact with the young man and cast _Legilimens_ on him.

It was like walking into a tornado!

Wailing demons of grief and self-doubt swirled and shrieked, claws ripping at the huddled figures at their centre, all three weeping and sobbing, the racking shudders of a soul in torment.  Unable to make the shadows of soul respond, Albus fought his way forward against the wind that tried to destroy him and fell on one knee, gathering the personality components up in his arms.  For a second the three manifestations of Snape resisted, then all three tried to burrow into his embrace, holding tightly against the punishing fury of their own grief.  Anchoring them, Albus realised Minerva was now at his side in the real world and motioned her to hold the physical form while he held the spirit forms, hoping simple human contact could break past the walls of torment and reach the young man at the centre of the storm.

Finally, an undefined time later, as the wild magic slowed and the soul allowed physical expression of grief, Severus wept unrestrainedly.  Soul deep, shuddering sobs shook the older witch who held him tightly, unable to reconcile the sarcastic and unbelievably emotionless young pure-blood with the broken and heart-broken youth who allowed her to pet his hair and stroke his back making meaningless, wordless sounds of comfort.  She continued to sooth and gentle, accepting a handkerchief from the small house-elf both for herself and for the boy in her lap.  Albus was still deeply engaged in the _Legilimency_ spell and could no more answer questions than the boy could.

They remained so until Albus suddenly stiffened and straightened, breaking the connection with the boy abruptly.  Minerva blinked as the Headmaster swayed and shuddered, one hand clutching his head.

“What is it, Albus?” she asked abruptly, noting the sheen of sweat on the older man’s forehead.

Albus took a deep breath and shuddered before attempting a smile that was more of a grimace.  “I believe I was just, er, tossed out on my ear,” he said with a touch of hesitant humour.  “Severus has been badly hurt as young men in love sometimes are.  Unfortunately, he trusted and that trust was abused and now he is... well, no matter, we shall see how he is when he wakes.  I have placed a sleeping charm on his soul so that he may find a little rest this evening, some peace to recover.”

“Is that wise?” Minerva asked as she efficiently retrieved a thick blanket from the chest at the foot of the bed.

“Better than having my office shake itself to pieces, I should think,” Albus said humorously as he moved to the door of the dungeon but the Transfigurations Mistress noticed he was a little more stooped and moved a little more slowly than usual.

Minerva had not a single maternal bone in her body but she carefully tucked the exhausted young man in and patted his shoulder before leaving the bedroom and dimming the torches as she left.  The tiny house-elf followed her out and closed the door after her before shifting from one foot to the other.

“Nimbil is having to go, Master Tom is calling and calling and now I is have to go or he is getting so mad at Master,” she said apprehensively.  “Master Severus is having to have this when he wakes up, I is asking kindly if you is giving it to him then.”  The house-elf offered the memory vial and the slip of parchment to both Albus and Minerva with a trembling hand.

“Can you not give it to Master Severus when you come back?” Minerva asked gently as the tiny creature seemed to be turning greyer and fainter before their very eyes.

“No, Nimbil is not coming back, it is Nimbil’s time now, she knows.  I is going to go so Master Severus is not going to go.  You will take care of him; he is a good master, and kind.”

Albus sighed and nodded his understanding.  “He will be heart-broken all over again.”

“He will be free!” the house-elf said forcefully and Disapparated instantly.

“Did she just…” Minerva asked shocked.

“Yes, she is going to ensure Severus is fully free of Tom.  There is more to house-elves than anyone ever realises, with their own set of values and obligations,” Albus assured the witch softly as they departed the suite.  “No one ever really appreciates their complete loyalty and their complexity which our society refuses to acknowledge.”

 

oo0oo

 

The house-elf materialised on the hearthrug before the two powerful wizards, her knees shaking as she nodded and bowed, assuring them that the Master was safe and well in his bed.  House-elves never lied, everyone knew that, so when she said Master Severus had eaten a bad shellfishy they believed her totally but when she refused to bring him back so they could heal him, Malfoy lost his temper and bellowed lashing out at the tiny creature furiously.  In a castle half a country away, a young man stirred and mewled as if in pain, the potion-enhanced connection with Tom Riddle sending the scene to his mind in vivid living colour.

Tom glared and grabbed the small elf by the throat, shaking her roughly before bringing her up eye to eye.  He didn’t even think as he cast _Legilimens_ on the small creature, invading her alien mind without thought.  It was totally disorientating and overwhelming, ripping his magic away and baring him to the bone.  The sheer hate and fear that engulfed him was astonishing in itself.  The elf hated him, hated him with a bone-deep passion for the way he treated her dear master, the way he used her master and how he planned to destroy her master.  If she could keep him safe by any means, she would, including denying Tom access to him while he was recovering from food poisoning.

Roaring inarticulately, Tom grabbed the elf’s feet and swung her body hard, slamming her into the edge of the marble fireplace with skull-crushing force.  The elf died instantly, her last expression one of unadulterated satisfaction which stayed even as her life left.  Lucius stood gawping at his master, all spells ripped away as the house-elf died, seeing him fully for the first time in his life, a bone-thin, bone-white caricature of a man with blazing red eyes and melted wax features.  The true sight only lasted a moment before the potent spells reasserted themselves but the sight was embedded in Lucius’ consciousness.  And was instantly engulfed and hidden from all ken almost without trace.  That was not a thought that Lucius wanted any casual _Legilimency_ to discover, especially with the Dark Lord in his present mood.

“Damn, Severus is not going to be pleased about that,” he remarked then winced when he realised he had spoken aloud.

Tom turned to his henchman and sneered.  “Dispose of it and make sure he never finds out,” Lord Voldemort ordered, dropping the small carcass onto the hearthstone.

Even as Lucius nodded his acquiescence, hundreds of miles away, Severus cried out in agony.  The bindings Tom had placed upon his soul all those years ago when he had lain beaten and mostly dead were shrivelled to ash, incinerated in healthy, healing fury and a resolution that hardened into inflexible steel.  He knew the last nail had been hammered into the coffin that held what used to be his love for Tom Riddle.  He was free of emotional entanglement, only the crude leash of the _Mor Mordre_ on his arm still held him to the dark cause.  It would be enough for his new purpose.

 

oo0oo

 

Severus managed to sleep a full ten hours, a very long sleep for him.  When he awoke the headmaster was sitting by his bed reading a book of what looked like ancient Greek poetry.  The old man closed the book and smiled benignly as the young man yawned then stiffened as memory reasserted itself, a new wave of betrayal swamping Severus all over again.  Albus saw the misery warp into a sneer and sighed deeply.

“It will get better in the future,” he said softly as a house-elf popped in and deposited a breakfast tray on the bedside table.

“Will it?  Will Tom magically undergo a change of heart and not offer me to my grandmother for her consumption?  Will I suddenly have worth and value in this world, be a real person instead of a tool and a weapon?  Stop trying to get into my mind, old man!” Severus screamed, tossing the tray aside and scrambling out of bed, heading for the safety of the bathroom at a run.

Albus shook his head and waved his wand to clean up the mess before the sound of vomiting and angry tears made him sigh deeply.  Perhaps he should not have tried to creep into the boy’s mind, perhaps that was not the strategy to use in this situation but he needed to see what Snape was feeling and what he was thinking.  Severus was a Death Eater, of that there was no doubt, obviously a trusted one too until he had decided to find out how true Tom Riddle’s feelings were for him.  Merlin, if Severus was as highly placed as the glimpse of memories he had managed last night was any indication, it would be like having a direct Floo connection right into the heart of the conspiracy!  What price a young man’s ego when stacked against that?

Severus returned to the bedroom and ignored the Headmaster as he glanced around then sighed, slumping against the mattress dejectedly.  “He killed Nimbil too, for no real reason, just because he could, I suppose,” he muttered sadly, remembering how eager the young house-elf had been to serve him and how proud she had been of her new position, brought down from Snape Manor to serve the Head of Family at such a young age.  “You know, I really can’t forgive him for that.  It’s as bad as killing Muggle children who are as helpless as fish in a barrel and no challenge at all.”

“You should eat something,” Albus said gently, making Severus turn to stare at him then laugh bitterly.

“No exclamations of horror at my skewed values?  No exhortations to accept Mudbloods and half-breeds as ‘real people’ not inferiors?”

“Would it make a difference if I did, Severus?  I do not believe that is a line of thought you truly follow.  I don’t think you give a damn about the politics of the war, one way or the other, if the truth be told,” Albus said in measured tones.

“You’re right, I don’t care, only that we are protected from the Muggle hordes which are as numerous as locusts and would overwhelm our kind through sheer numbers.  I do not agree with Tom’s ‘destroy them all’ policy, nor do I subscribe to your ‘embrace the masses’ policy either.  I personally am quite happy to live out my life without ever taking another Muggle life or encountering another Mudblood ever again but I know that is not going to happen.  People like Lily Potter completely negate Tom’s argument that Muggle-borns are impotent and a drain on our society.”  He snorted with laughter at the Headmaster's rapidly changing and never certain expression.  “What’s wrong, Headmaster, did you think I would be for or against one side or the other?  Sorry to disappoint, I really don’t give a shit.”

Albus sighed.  “You do actually give a toss, Severus, your eyes belie your argument and you mouth the indifferent line… with indifference.”

Severus opened his mouth then shut it on a broken breath.  “Perhaps,” he conceded grimly.  “Headmaster, I need to think, I need to assimilate all the information I received yesterday and I need to make a decision on what to do with that information.  I-I can’t, I can’t just… I….”  He turned away and tipped back his head to stare at the ceiling, blinking hard.  “Please, I will make a decision and tell you soon.”

“Very well, Severus.  Remember this, I will not judge you, you will judge yourself and you will have to live with that judgement for the rest of your life.”

Severus laughed bitterly as he listened to the Headmaster leave.

 

oo0oo

 

“And you just left?” Minerva asked incredulously.  “My God, Albus, he is a Death Eater, you said so yourself, we should inform the Ministry at the very least.”

“And let them do what?  Take him to Azkaban, let the Dementors have him?  I think there has been so little joy in that boy’s life that a Dementor would not even register him as a human being.”

“But still… a Death Eater, Albus, he might murder us all in our beds.”  The witch shuddered, then shuddered again as Albus offered her a bag of liquorice allsorts.

“You must remember, Minerva, that the school let him in, above and beyond every other consideration, Hogwarts let him in.”

 

oo0oo

 

“I have made a decision,” Severus announced as he entered the Headmaster’s study and stood before the large desk with his head bent, the picture of a penitent schoolboy.

“I’m glad, Severus,” Albus said encouragingly, rising and leading his newest teacher over to the sofa, conjuring tea and cake without even asking what Severus preferred.

For a moment, Severus wondered what the old man would say if he conjured up a glass of Firewhisky then he sighed and shook his head, accepting the cup resignedly, rather horrified as a new wave of emotion shook him, causing the cup to rattle ominously on the saucer.  A single tear escaped his iron control, tracking down his cheek to drip onto his hand with a hot salty splash.  It was followed by another and yet another until Severus wondered if he would ever be able to stop the sobs that shook him so badly.  It was ridiculous, he was a grown man, he had murdered people, tortured, maimed and destroyed people with less emotion than a single kind hand laid on his shoulder evoked.  Almost by habit he lifted his head and invited the Headmaster into his mind, unabashed and unashamed of the tears he still failed to control.

Surprised, Albus entered the domain of his Potions Master’s mind, amazed at the complex structure and twisted pathways presented to him.  He waited, not pushing or forcing but only moving as fast as the resistance allowed, the slow entry worth the wait when he found the odd triviat personality being that Severus used to express his inner life.  All three aspects of the Snape persona were sad, huddled together and weeping as despair clung to them like a dripping shroud.  Flashes of memory sprang like tigers from out of the darkness, clawing and shrieking and tearing, never allowing them to heal or be at peace.  If this was the condition of Severus’ mind, no wonder he wept on the outside.  A lesser man would be slitting his wrists.

“Ah Severus, what has happened to you, my poor child?” Albus asked as the three-fold being slowly sighed and shuddered into silence but the aftershocks still shook them all.

“I-I … don’t know where to start,” Snape said softly, rustily.

“Show him,” Ibrim counselled, the darkly silvered soul substance seeming more solid than even the physical manifestation termed Severus.  “Let him judge, as we are obviously incapable of guiding our own destiny.  We are not wise in our choices, either in love or in leaders,” the soul confessed sadly to the old wizard.  All three aspects nodded agreement and almost bowled Albus over with the flood of information they tossed at him, every last detail of their lives so far, including the glorious and inglorious, sexual and asexual, torment and torture they had suffered or inflicted.  Nothing was held back; nothing excused or varnished; an airing of every small detail without fear or favour, honesty in its purest form.

“You are young and do not have any experience of a normal life, I think,” Albus tried to exonerate and dissipate the guilt and grief emanating from the young penitent.  His mind reeled at the sheer volume of information he had been given, an almost impossible overload.  Severus was baring his soul, his very being and forcing Albus to judge every action and reaction he had ever had.  It was impossible of course, no one could assimilate an entire lifetime of experience in a few seconds, not even as short a life as Severus Snape’s, and Albus didn’t try.  He simply accepted all the information, knowing he would have to spend a lot of time in his Pensieve thinking and analysing but knowing the details would be invaluable to the future course of the war against Lord Voldemort.  For a moment, Albus chided himself for being so self-serving but honesty compelled him to recognise the value of the opportunity he had just been given.  If this man could be brought willingly to support their cause, he would be invaluable!

“I think we are a twisted creature, incapable of being normal, we are attracted to the Dark in the same way a light attracts the moth,” Snape stormed, anger making him seem less beaten and broken.

It was a good sign, Albus thought, weighing his response carefully before he spoke.  “I think you are a well-tempered man who has finally come to a real conclusion on your own without the input of those who would use you and twist you to their own ends.  You say you are not normal but you realise you have been tricked and lied to and are both grieving and furious, both very normal reactions.  That you recognise that you have been used and abused shows a normal reaction of a healthy young man who trusted and had his trust abused.  Thus, having unmasked the devil masquerading as a lover, you are now equipped to deal with the situation, but I do urge you to caution.  I fear, Severus, that you may not be able to ‘interact’ with Tom in your usual fashion now and he may retaliate, killing or stealing your soul.”

“Would it matter?” Severus asked glumly.  “Between him and my Grandmother there’s not much of my soul left,” he muttered gloomily, surprised when Albus laughed gently.

“This Ibrim part of your triad seems healthy and whole enough to me, only slightly blemished but no more than is usual in someone who is learned in the Dark Arts but does not practise Black Magic very often.”

The three parts studied the Ibrim component of the triad then chuckled waterily.  “So I am being somewhat melodramatic,” Severus sighed and shuddered.  “Tell me, Albus, what price a soul?  What will _you_ cost me if I choose to support your cause freely and wholeheartedly?”

Albus rocked back on his figurative heels but was shrewd enough not to lie to the man, especially on the plane they presently inhabited.  “Oh, you will gamble with your soul, I do assure you, as surely as following the Dark Path would, but at least you will still own it when you are finished the course.  Your position is unique in that you are a trusted member of Lord Voldemort’s inner circle and as such can command entry to many secret types of council.  If you choose to, you could be invaluable to us as a spy for the Order and indirectly the rest of the Wizarding world.  It’s a painful, bitter route with very few rewards I am offering you, especially at the level you will be capable of operating, but in the end you will have the satisfaction of knowing you have done the best you can with what you have.  And Severus, your best will be truly remarkable, I assure you.”

“Will I be happy and loved?” he asked sarcastically, daring the older man to lie.

“No, probably not, not in the short term, but you will be Right.”

“Right!” Severus laughed bitterly, then nodded his head in agreement.  “I will be Right, vindicated even if it kills me, especially if it kills me, then I will be free of this… whatever you want to call it… this life.”

Albus bowed his head and sighed.  “I will stand by you and do my utmost to protect you but Severus, you have been Marked and that will be all the self-righteous can see.  As I said, it will not be an easy path you may choose but it will be rewarding in its own, understated way.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Old Man.  _Dharicz caz?_ ”  Severus smirked as he called upon an older form of magic to seal the bargain, almost daring Dumbledore to respond incorrectly.

“Very well, _dharicz caz,_ ” Albus responded in kind, without hesitation, and the potent phrase wrapped them both in the spoken promise.  “ _To venture’s end_.”

 

 

 


	23. Chapter 23: The Beginning of the End

 

_September 1st_

 

The first of September saw the beginning of the school year but, as it fell on a Tuesday, there were no lessons.  The noisy hoard flooded into the Great Hall, shouting, yelling greetings, teasing and pushing as they found their places on the benches reserved for each House.  Severus had not wanted to participate in the travesty of a happy occasion, preferring to nurse his misery in his rooms, but Dumbledore had insisted.  Grim and tight-lipped, Severus took a place near the end of the table between Slughorn and Kettleburn, allowing the cold spell he kept on his robes to creep out and slowly engulf his neighbours.  If he couldn’t be comfortable, then he was going to make sure nobody else was.

There were whispers in the body of the hall, curiosity over the new teachers running rife before Professor Dumbledore rose to make the announcements.  Professor Sinistra would be the new Astronomy teacher and Potions Master Snape would be the new Potions Professor.  There was an excited whisper through the Slytherin table and a few equally quick hisses of recognition from the other tables as Snape glared down at the upturned faces.  Children who had been in first and second year while he was still at school would now be his sixth- and seventh-year students.  A few children were also the offspring of Death Eaters and had encountered him in his ‘professional capacity’ when serving the Dark Lord.  He wondered how on earth he was going to cope with them.  He really, _really_ didn’t want to be a teacher, not at all!  Still, rumours of the second kind would probably be helpful rather than harmful in keeping order in the classroom.

He had spent a week in bed after the horrible incidents over dinner, trying to block out some of the stinging and painful truths he had learned from Tom’s mind.  Tom’s belief that he was a worthwhile human being had been one of the corner stones of his existence, but that had been removed completely in a cloud of hate and envy-generated manipulation.  Riddle had wanted his magic and his secrets, his ability to use and control Blood Magic and Elder sorcery, not his love or his person or anything about him, Severus Ibrim Snape.  It was humiliating and soul-destroying, tearing at the fabric of his being and negating everything he stood for.  If he could not trust in something he thought was the foundation of his world, then how could he trust any judgement he made or any person who seemed to like him?

Oddly enough, one person he thought he might be able to trust was Minerva McGonagall, uptight cow that she was.  She made no bones about liking him or trusting him, but she was honest, straightforward and not purposefully hurtful in her judgements.  “Well, at least you found out before you married him,” was her only comment, delivered with a sniff of disapproval and a shaken head.

That had startled a snort of strangled laughter out of him, a faint lightening of the black mood that had engulfed him this past week and a half, partially a hangover from taking the blood potion, partially sheer misery for a love gone sour.  The woman had then proceeded to pour him a large cup of very black tea and top it off with a very large dollop of Single Malt Muggle Scotch whisky which she had from her cousin who owned a distillery.  “I do not approve of drinking as a way of avoiding sorrows, but I do think a good belt of scotch can cure a lot of ills,” she told him consideringly as she added an equally generous portion to her own cup and toasted him slightly before taking a healthy mouthful.  As sympathy went it was rough but honest and Severus sighed as he returned the salute.

Dumbledore’s efforts consisted of acidic lemon drops, bad cake and rather silly jokes, but he listened without making any judgements as Severus sat in his office and spilled every single secret he had ever kept, every thought he had ever had and every speculation he had ever made.  The old man had said, ‘ _Start at the beginning and stop when you come to the end,_ ’ and Severus had taken him very literally.  It had taken hours to recite every facet of his life that he could remember, from his first memories of pain at his Grandmother’s hands to feeling the death of his house-elf through the potion-induced connection.  He wept, he swore and he even laughed, Dumbledore joining in appropriately, nodding or tsking or simply wrapping a comforting arm over his shoulders when he was too upset to continue.  Finally, totally wrung out, both physically and emotionally, Severus had curled up on the headmaster’s sofa and fallen into a deep, cleansing sleep.

The potion he had taken still connected him to Tom’s mind but not as tightly as it had at first.  The effect should wear off after a few days; in the meantime he knew what Tom was thinking if it was related to Severus and any of his doings.  Tom’s worry at Severus’ illness was tempered by his fury at losing track of the boy who had been as close to him as any in his life.  Tom knew he had taken a gamble on letting Severus get so close to him, but he had had to let the boy in so as to build a bond of trust and liking between them.  Tom was slow to admit that he had actually liked Severus for himself and not just for his usefulness, but all good things had to come to an end and Severus’ usefulness was coming to an end.  Sad but true.  Then that the stupid elf had taken him into the heart of enemy territory where he could not follow was like a burning brand in the older wizard’s mind.

Finally, after four days of exhaustion, Severus managed to pull himself into some semblance of order and set about clearing his mind of all hints that he knew anything more than he was supposed to.  Professor Dumbledore offered to be his Secret-Keeper, but Severus only laughed bitterly.  “I have learned that I am the best person to be my own Secret-Keeper, only I can betray me if I fail to manage the trick.”

“That is a lonely way to live, my boy, as an island.”

“But it is safe,” Severus replied grimly, easing a memory strand free of his mind and depositing it into his Pensieve.  “Recent experience has simply reinforced the idea that the only person you may trust completely is yourself and even that is a risky proposition.”

Albus simply shook his head sadly.

Once he felt he had removed as many of the incriminating thoughts as he needed to, Severus began to compose memories to take their place, of being ill, throwing up copiously, of Madam Pomfrey force-feeding him unpleasant concoctions of his own making.  He artistically placed a memory of Dumbledore trying to breach his barriers but being repulsed successfully and one of McGonagall offering him scotch and laughing as he grimaced, wishing it was decent Firewhisky, and tossed it back in an effort to defeat the food poisoning.  The innocuous memory sequences would serve to preserve his position in Riddle’s estimation while concealing the fact that Severus was no longer in love or even in remote like with the man.

 

oo0oo

 

_September 5th_

 

On the morning of the fifth, Severus Flooed into Malfoy Manor and collapsed in the nearest chair, pale as a ghost and still shaky as he brushed his hair off his face.  Narcissa looked up and gaped most unladylike until Severus sneered at her, making her shut her mouth with a click.  “Well, look what the kneazle dragged in.”

“Ah, shut it, Narcy, I feel like shit,” Severus commented, his throat still scratchy from the very poor use he had put it to over the past few days.

“Oh dear, is Sevvy-poo in a fouler mood than usual?” Narcissa teased but rang the bell and asked that the maid inform her husband that his errant lover had returned at last.

“You are a bitch at times, Madame Malfoy,” Severus commented without heat as Lucius hurried in, still in his shirt sleeves, and enfolded Severus in a hug.  “Your wife is being a bitch, Lucius,” he reiterated as the older man let him go and he sank back against the cushions wearily.

“Narcissa is a very talented, er, witch,” Lucius smirked, shooting his wife a fond look.  “We thought you might have died or something equally nasty, Severo.  We half expected you to pop up as a ghost one evening.”

“Yes, a ghost who was heaving its guts out every five minutes,” Narcissa put in and laughed as Severus winced.  “Just think, the youngest Potions Master ever to succumb to death by shellfish.”

Severus shook his head slightly but forbore to comment, leaving Lucius to hush her up and ring for tea.

“How do you feel really?” he asked when Severus was settled comfortably.

“Bloody awful.  Pomfrey tried to kill me with my own concoctions and Dumbledore tried the same trick with lemon drops.  At least McGonagall was good enough to try it with Scotch whisky, not a bad drop really.  Is the Dark Lord very angry with me?” he added as a non-sequitur.

“No, Severus, I don’t think so.  He was worried, obviously, especially when your elf took you to Hogwarts instead of here but that was an unfortunate thing, outside your control.  I suppose I had better tell you that the elf met with a sticky end, I’m afraid.  It really annoyed the Dark Lord and he just lost his temper and, well…  Suffice it to say, you need a new house-elf, Severus.”

“Yes, I sort of gathered that when Nimbil didn’t come back.”  Severus managed to keep most of the emotion out of his voice as he spoke in the off-hand manner of his social class.  “I have decided to never own another house-elf again, they do seem to die unexpectedly when associated with me.  Besides, Hogwarts has an abundance of the little buggers so I will not need a new personal elf, I suppose,” Severus mused grimly, another spike of grief taking him but he shook his head to drive it away.  Now was not the time, he needed all his wits about him to survive this encounter without being caught out.  “So, what’s been happening in the wider world while I have been incarcerated in the depths of Scotland?  Is the Lord at his club or even still in the country?”

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged long, thoughtful looks.  “He is at his club but he has not mentioned that he would like to see you at all,” Lucius said slowly, contemplatively.

“He’s been busy,” Narcissa said smugly, radiating gloating as the two men exchanged exasperated looks.  Severus almost remarked that Narcissa had a habit of taking up with his cast-offs, but he managed to restrain his tongue and smile blandly.

“Yes, I know, he has so many duties and responsibilities,” Severus replied dismissively, then smiled slightly.  “How is my godson?”

They chatted inconsequentially about current news, Draco’s run-in with a half-wild kneazle and Lucius’ dilemmas with his company directors, the usual gossip of peers, but there was an underlying current that had never been present before, an uneasiness that was subtle but present.  It seemed to peak when Severus mentioned setting up lesson plans and wondering which idiot had set Potions for Beginners as a suitable textbook for third-year students.  While Lucius teased him about being a nanny to snotty kids, the current was in full force.  When Narcissa asked if he had managed to explore any part of the castle, it became even more obvious that the Malfoys were not really comfortable with where their old friend was going to be living in the future, even if it was at the behest of their Lord.

“Narcissa, as you so eloquently pointed out, all I have done for the past couple of days is sleep, puke and shit.  Exploring the wilds of Hogwarts and uncovering secret passages are not the first two things you think of when suffering from food poisoning, believe me.  Unless it is an expedition to map all the loos and bathrooms around the building and plot the shortest route between any two of them,” Severus stated dryly, making Lucius crow with laughter and even Narcissa sniggered in appreciation.

“Well, you look as skinny as you did when you were sixteen, so you had better try and regain some weight or you are going to turn into a skeleton before our very eyes,” Lucius remarked.

“On that note, let us remove to the dining room,” Narcissa proposed, rising gracefully.  “I promise there are no shellfish on the menu,” she added with a malicious grin.

“Thank Merlin for small mercies!” Severus muttered as he followed them out.

 

oo0oo

 

_September 18th_

 

Lord Voldemort did not send for Severus until almost the third week of term, an owl landing beside Severus’ plate at breakfast on Saturday morning.  He recognised the Malfoy bird and handled it with care in deference to its viciousness as he slipped the parchment from its leg.  The note was brief and to the point, a date, a time and an address, no seal or signature, but Severus knew the handwriting intimately.  He glanced across at the headmaster who nodded his permission very slightly as Severus used wandless magic to destroy the note utterly.  One or two of the students who had been taking a covert interest in the teacher’s message shivered fearfully at the malignant expression that crossed the dark, hook-nosed face.  Someone was in trouble with Snape again!

The rooms looked the same, Tom looked the same, but Severus was very different now as he entered the room and smiled at his… what?  Not his love, not his lover nor his master, just the man who would destroy him if he discovered how much Severus’ heart had changed.  Moving with his usual unhurried glide, Severus dropped a kiss on Tom’s cheek, trying to forget that it was not smoothly tanned but bone pale and gaunt under the glamour or whatever it was.  ‘ _Not,_ ’ he told himself caustically, ‘ _that it should make any difference, you always knew his appearance and his feel were at odds, you moron!_ ’  That was the trouble with having three parts to one’s psyche; they occasionally held rather strenuous arguments when the body was trying to act normally.

Tom smiled at the tall, now extremely thin man who bent to kiss him, curving an arm around his shoulders and drawing him close.  As they pulled back, Tom cast _Legilimens_ and caught glimpses of sickness, Pomfrey’s concerned face, Dumbledore pulling back as his boy vomited again, bathrooms, bathrooms and more bathrooms.  The general feel from Severus was of aches and pains, exhaustion and a lingering malady that had not gone away.  Satisfied that it was the reason for Severus’ less than enthusiastic welcome, he led the boy to the nearest sofa and seated him comfortably.

“So, how is the teaching?” Tom asked, summoning a plate of dainty snacks and a pot of tea.

Severus chuffed out a breath in disgust.  “Grim.  I don’t know what Slughorn thinks he has been teaching for the past few years but it was surely not Potions.  The levels of ignorance are appalling and only over-shadowed by the general level of stupidity exhibited by the average Hogwarts student!  They are dumb fuckers!”

Tom burst out laughing!  “My poor, poor Severus, how much you must suffer!  Is there no consolations at all?”

“If that stupid cow Trelawney making eyes at you is considered a consolation then so be it, but personally I cannot think how I have survived these last two weeks without casting Unforgivables on the lot of them!”  He snorted in disgust when Tom wrapped his arms around his aching stomach, the belly laugh almost sending him into a spasm.  “All very well for you to laugh, you don’t have to face the little beasts everyday and realise that they are going to grow up into sheep just like their parents and there is nothing you can do to make them think for themselves.  I should let them blow themselves up, really I should.”

“Oh, Severus, enough, enough please!  My ribs are aching and I can’t take any more.  Is this a new form of torture, make your Lord laugh himself to death?”

“Better than having your brain curdle into Swiss cheese and run out of your ears in the stultifying quagmire of ignorance most people call Hogwarts!” he muttered grimly, sending Tom off again.  Shaking his head, Severus summoned a glass of water for Tom’s hiccoughs and waited while he managed to control himself enough to speak almost sensibly.  “So, what has been happening in the real world?”

“Oh, not a lot, not a lot, I’m afraid.  I caught a Seer and placed her under Imperius and had her cast the runes for that child you mentioned, Rupert Bowater.  He seemed to be a good candidate for the fulfilling of that Prophecy you brought in, son of a prominent pure-blood diplomat who opposes me, mother a recognised scientist.  His birth date was a governing factor and the Seer _Saw_ that he had the destiny to be very dangerous to me,” Tom said grimly, placing the waterglass down with a bang.

“ _Had_ the destiny?  I take it you, er, solved that little problem?” Severus murmured, not glancing up or showing any overt interest.

Tom chuckled reminiscently.  “Oh, indeed.  I had the child abducted and given to Greyback then sent a ransom note to the distraught parents who immediately paid half a million Galleons for the safe return of their son, even though it nearly bankrupted them.  The money did wonders for my treasury and they got a child back, a changeling, no less.”

Severus glanced up sharply.  “Where did you get a changeling from?  I thought they were all but gone these days?”

“Oh, there are a few wild ones out there in the Ural Mountains if you know where to look, and I do.  Why, do you want one?”

“Well, they are potent potions ingredients, if you know how to harvest them properly,” Severus reminded him huffily, making Tom laugh again and hug the young man in a one-armed squeeze.

“That’s my Severus, a one-tracked mind!  Anyway, Greyback Turned the brat on his way back to England so we had a one-year old werewolf on our hands but before he could be given over to the Ministry to be dealt with, that idiot Greyback _lost_ him.  I mean, how can you lose a werewolf cub?”

Severus snorted.  “Having seen how far young Draco can get when no one is watching, I am not really surprised.  So, how did the cub fare on the loose, on his own?”

“Oh, some wizarding farm family picked him up.  Aren’t they going to be surprised next month?”  Both men sniggered.  “The Seer assured me that his destiny was now involved with colours and the werewolf community.  No matter what he did, he would never touch on my destiny again.  Pity the Seer had to die, she was a very good Seer, actually quite accurate and plain spoken but she was beginning to fight off the Imperius Curse, a very strong-willed old witch indeed.”

“So, what’s next on the agenda?  What do you want me to do for you or am I now stuck at Hogwarts and useless to you?” Severus asked more soberly.

“Never fear, my Severus, there is a lot you can do for me, I do assure you.  Staying at Hogwarts and keeping a very close eye on Dumbledore is vital to my plans, finding the items I want is equally important.  However, in the short term…” the older wizard said seductively, stroking the black cascade of hair off Severus’ shoulder and bending to nibble on his neck.

 

oo0oo

 

Dumbledore patted the young man’s shoulder as he shook his head, ignoring the young wizard’s tirade against his own perceived naivety.  The news of Ambassador Bowater’s son was indeed bad news, but it would be even harder for them if the child was returned.  The changeling had already fled the Bowater household so that aspect did not need any addressing.  Perhaps it was best just to forget the child unless it had really been adopted by a family.  Although, and it was merely a vague rumour, there had been a whisper about a wizarding farm couple on the high moors finding a child on their doorstep.  Perhaps it should be investigated but there were more pressing matters to be dealt with.  The death of the Seer - who turned out to be Samantha Lavington - was indeed a blow for the Guild of Knowing.  Her skill and accuracy had often been called upon by the Wizengamot when all other avenues of discussion had been fruitless.  Lord Voldemort had struck more shrewdly than perhaps even he realised when he had taken Samantha and killed her.

Severus’ new mission was to search for the cache of artefacts left by Godric Gryffindor somewhere in the castle.  He had been given a set of library references and some old parchments that seemed to give clues to the whereabouts of the cache, but it was all pure speculation on Lord Voldemort’s part.  Having seen most of the references before, Dumbledore was not hopeful that Severus would find a fabulous new cache, but he had to be seen searching diligently if he wanted to stay in Tom Riddle’s good books.  When Albus mentioned something of the sort, Severus sighed deeply and nodded.

“What I can’t understand is why?  Why would he want these things?  What is the fascination for the Founders and why does the possession of their possessions dominate Tom’s mind so?”

“What can we know of obsession, and make no mistake, Tom is obsessed.  Maybe it is for a real purpose or maybe it is just the use of Dark Magic beginning to manifest the damage it always inflicts on the wielder’s soul and psyche,” Albus speculated softly.  “You know the effect your own forays into High Court magic has upon you and you were brought up with it.  Now imagine how much stronger the effects would be if you embraced the magic wholeheartedly and practiced diligently every day.”

Severus sighed and agreed then frowned, chewing his lip slightly.  “Here’s another thing, Headmaster, Tom’s obsession with the prophecy has not waned; he is still convinced he must destroy the children so that the prophecy will come to nothing. Now that Tom has finished with the Bowater child he is casting his eyes at both the Potter and the Longbottom child.  If he follows his current path, then the Longbottom child will be the next target as his birthday is next on the calendar after the Bowater baby.”

“Humm, and do you think he will follow the calendar in his line of reasoning?”

“I don’t know, Albus, I just don’t know, he is losing his rationality in many small ways.  All I know is he will continue to hunt down anyone or anything he thinks may become a threat to him, regardless of the risks or consequences attached to the actions.  He is slipping into madness, Headmaster, even I can see that.”  Severus almost begged for belief and acceptance of his word.  It came like a balm to his spirit.

“Oh, I believe you, my boy, I just wish I could do something to salvage the boy who was Tom Riddle but I fear it is too late for that now.”

“Far, far too late indeed,” Severus agreed sadly as he took his leave.

 

oo0oo

 

_October 10th_

 

Severus blinked when he spotted a flash of red hair down the corridor, a particular shade of red that caught every spark of available light and tossed it back a thousand-fold.  The bright, dancing waves rivalled the splendour of the torches in the corridor.  Moving swiftly and smoothly, Severus rounded the corner and almost ploughed into the stationary group just around the bend.  Someone snarled wordlessly and Severus was thrown against the far wall with enough force to wind him.

“No!  Down, Padfoot!  Bad dog!”  The feminine tones were sharp and commanding as Severus slid down the wall and tried to stop his head ringing where it had collided with stone.

“Are you alright?” a kindly voice asked and a warm, firm grip took his upper arm to steady him.

About to reply politely, Severus followed the arm up to meet Remus’ concerned amber eyes, then looked beyond him to where Potter, Black and Pettigrew stood ranked around Lily and her baby.  Black still had his wand out, a sneer of sheer contempt on his face as he waved the tip vaguely in Snape’s direction.

“Oh, come on, Lily, it's just Snivellus, you know he is fair game if he is caught.  Bet you if he caught any of us on our own, we would be dead meat.  Best be careful, Moony, you don’t know what germs you might pick up after handling that piece of shit.”

“Sirius!”  The exasperated exclamation was threefold, Lily and Pettigrew adding high notes to Remus’ protest.

Severus didn’t even think, he simply glared and sent his own wave of wandless magic slamming into the annoying git, causing him to spin away and head-butt the nearest statue which happened to be the gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s staircase.

“Severus!”  The exclamation was equally annoyed and protesting as Sirius reeled back clutching his forehead with both hands.

Severus smirked and shook off Remus’ hands but not as hard as he could have.  “You might want to put a bridle on that big-mouthed idiot,” he sneered, peering down his nose at Black who was now dabbing his forehead to see if there was any blood.  The other three were obviously poised to either attack or defend depending on what move the two combatants tried next.

Sirius glared but before he could do more, Professor Dumbledore appeared on the stairs and smiled benevolently on all of the former students impartially.  “Ah, all here safe and sound I see?  Well, come along, boys and girls, I have tea in my study ready for you, and Harry shall have some very nice chocolate I had sent over from Honeydukes especially with him in mind.  Ah, Severus, the spare cauldrons you ordered have come at last.  Argus Filch is holding them in his office until you decide which potions lab you want them delivered to.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Severus said shortly, bowing slightly as he passed the group, making sure he banged into Sirius and caused him to stagger against the statue once more.  Before Sirius could lift his wand, the headmaster was ushering them up the stairs and the chance was lost.

 

oo0oo

 

“Why didn’t you hex the child while you had the chance?” Lord Voldemort demanded, glaring at the Death Eater kneeling before him with bowed head.

“My Lord, there was little opportunity, Black attacked as soon as he saw me and by the time I had neutralised him, the headmaster had appeared and so the chance was lost.”

“Fool!  _Crucio_!”

Severus fell, writhing in agony but as usual not a sound passed his lips.  Lord Voldemort glared down at the man, wondering what it took to make him cry out.  He often thought he might like to see how much Severus could stand but at the moment he was too valuable to waste in the experiment.  He lifted the curse and watched with clinical detachment as the tall man climbed to his feet and carefully straightened his robes before moving a step back and bowing.  Lord Voldemort was not fooled.  Severus was hurt but he always straightened his robes, not to appear neat and tidy but to buy a little recovery time and get his rebelling muscles under control again.  Damn, he was good, his lover and his most vocal critic.  Well, soon he would be neither, merely a shell inhabited by another spirit, briefly.  As long as the old woman believed, he would be able to control her and eventually he would sacrifice the last Snape to the Greater Powers and gain control of the family fortune to use in his own cause.

“It seems you had plenty of time to throw Black against the wall and swap repartee with him and the werewolf, obviously a more pressing matter than doing your Lord’s business, humm?”

“Black started it,” Severus muttered mutinously then sighed and bowed again.  “I am sorry, my Lord, I had only planned to slip around the corner and do some initial spying on the group, but they had stopped at an inconvenient place and the surprise was lost in an instant.”

Lord Voldemort sighed and nodded, accepting his servant’s words before turning to another masked and robed figure.  It was Malfoy, Severus was sure; he recognised the stance and the tilt of his head despite the Death Eater costume he wore.  “Well, that’s settled, I am going to give that idiot Potter one more chance to renounce the Mudblood and take a proper wife.  If he refuses then they are all fair game, not just the woman and child.  I want you to make sure he is available to hear my offer, and that he accepts my generosity.  Do you understand, my trusted servant and friend?”

“I do, my Lord.” Malfoy’s rich, fruity tones were strong and clear.

Everyone bowed as the Lord clapped Malfoy on the shoulder and called him a faithful servant once again before Apparating away.  Only Severus saw the glare on Lucius’ face that was quickly hidden away.

 

oo0oo

 

“I tell you, Albus, he doesn’t give a toss about Lily and Harry, only about getting Potter married off suitably to a pure-bred girl of impeccable lineage,” Severus insisted angrily as he paced the Headmaster’s hearthrug.  “And I’ll tell you something else for free,” he snapped, spinning in a flurry of robes to pin Albus to the spot.  “You have a traitor of the worst kind in that group.  I’ll put money on it being Black, but it was definitely one of the group that were here on Saturday, one of the Marauders,” he spat contemptuously, shaking his head.

“What makes you think that, Severus?” Minerva asked, watching the man pace in agitation.

“He knew exactly what had transpired between the group and myself, exactly!  He couldn’t have known those details unless someone who had been present had told him.  I don’t know which one it was but as I say, I would bet on Black.  Yes, I know Remus is a werewolf and everything supposedly Dark, but I know Remus and I don’t think he is capable of betraying his friends like that, simply because he _is_ a wolf and has pack instincts.  They will die to protect their young, you know?”

Albus nodded then sighed.  “I will talk to James and Lily and convey your fears to them myself, it’s the best I can do just now.  If they agree to my help, I will make further plans later.”

Both Severus and Minerva nodded but both were deeply troubled as they left the office.  “He’s a Gryffindork, he’s not going to be sensible and hide,” Severus muttered mutinously as they descended the stairs and paused at the bottom.

Minerva McGonagall snorted in a most unlady-like fashion.  “No, Severus, I don’t suppose he would as a rule but he has a wife and child to protect now, perhaps he might grow some Slytherin caution and a sense of self-preservation,” she murmured hopelessly.

“And pigs might yet fly,” Severus snapped, summing up both their feelings very succinctly.

 

oo0oo

 

_October 22nd_

 

“Potter, be sensible, it is your only chance of having a full and natural life,” the shrouded head in the fire said cajolingly.

James glared at the shadowy figure in utter disgust, unable to place the voice but he knew he had heard it before.  “So you are asking me to give up my wife and son, declare the marriage void and take up with a girl from Spain I have never even met before because she is of a good wizarding bloodline, which someone -- who will also remain nameless -- has decided will be a perfect match for my bloodlines and between us we will produce perfect children who will not be Squibs.  Please, tell me if I have misquoted any part of your previous speech.”

“No, that is a fair summing up of the proposal,” his caller agreed in considering tones.

About to blast the man with a rather nasty hex, James stopped himself and sighed deeply.  “And Lily and Harry would be allowed to simply go off to America or Africa in peace and never be bothered again?”

“In essence, yes, that is so.”

James drew a deep breath through his nose then chuffed it out.  “It’s a lot to think about,” he said slowly, his mind working very quickly.  “I will need a little time to consider everything.  Can you wait a couple of days for the answer?”

“Our Lord is not a patient man and his offer is more than generous, but I think I can give you three days grace, no more than that.  The alternative is, of course, death by Unforgivable Curse to all three of you, you do understand, don’t you?”

“Oh yes, you said that at the very outset of the conversation,” James replied bitterly.  “Three days it is then.”  He turned away from the fire then turned back but thankfully his unwelcome visitor was gone.  Gathering a handful of Floo powder he tossed it into the flames and Flooed home as quickly as he could.

 

oo0oo

 

_October 23rd_

 

“Severus, what a delightful surprise,” Lily said as she opened the door and saw the tall wizard on her doorstep.

“This is not a social visit, Lily,” Severus said harshly, grabbing her shoulders to whirl her inside and shut the door, then he slumped a little and rolled his eyes when she clutched her collar fearfully.  “Don’t be any sillier than you have to be, Woman, would I come calling in the middle of the day and announce myself by ringing the bell if I had been sent to kill you?”

Lily snorted and waved him inside.  “With you, who knows, you are just contrary enough to do something as bold as that, yes,” she teased as she ushered him into the sitting room and offered him a seat.

One of Severus’ eyebrows rose as he considered her words then smirked.  “Humm, good plan actually,” he commented, looking around in approval.  “You have made a nice home, shame it is for Potter.  Look Lily, enough chit-chat, you and the idiot have to take Harry and get away as fast as you can and as far as you can.  South America, Australia, somewhere remote.  I have a cousin living in Australia, if you need it, I can write you an introduction to her so she can help you hide --”

“What?  What are you rabbiting on about, Severus?”  Lily stopped fussing with the teapot and stared at her friend as if he was barking.

“Damn it, Lily, he wants you and the baby dead!  Lord Voldemort, Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord, You-Know-Bloody-Well-Who, call him what you like, but he is coming for you and Harry and I really, really don’t want to lose my only real friend to that mad-man, do you understand?  And you can’t tell any of your friends either, especially not Black.  One of them is a spy and I don’t know which --”

“YOU!”  The roar was furious and the hex that slammed into Severus’ back was potent enough to knock him out of the chair and onto the hearthrug.

“James, no!  He came to warn us.  Stop it, now!” Lily shrieked as she caught her husband’s wrist and cast a dumbing hex over him almost without thinking.  “Severus, are you alright?  Can you get up?”

Severus rocked to his knees then forced his legs under him, cancelling the hex on himself wandlessly.  “Of course I can.  Potter hasn’t managed to muster the wherewithal to do that much damage, and if Tom Riddle hasn’t been able to kill me yet, then I doubt he will.”

“Stop being so provocative, Severus, please, we don’t have time for it.  Now, James, Severus came to warn us that the Dark Lord is after us, did you know that?” Lily demanded angrily as she lifted her hex.

James mumbled something then nodded grimly.  “Professor Dumbledore said something about it, then some joker turned up in my office Floo today and threatened you and the baby very specifically.”

“Oh God, what are we going to do, James?” Lily asked fearfully, glancing up the stairs almost automatically.

“Professor Dumbledore has offered to put the whole family under the Fidelius charm for our own protection,” James confessed softly.  “It’s kind of extreme, but…”

“Do it,” Severus said grimly.  “If Professor Dumbledore takes the threat that seriously, then I suggest you do too.  He is not a fool or a panic merchant, he is a skilled and knowledgeable wizard.  If he thinks a Fidelius charm is necessary, then I suggest you take him up on the offer as soon as you can.”

“Damn it, Snivellus, I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” James fired up, but Lily slapped his arm harshly.

“Maybe we do, maybe Severus is just the person to tell us.  After all, he has been spying on the Dark Lord successfully longer than anyone else.  Oh, come on, James, where do you think half the information the Order gets comes from, the pixies, the _Daily Prophet_?”

“He’s a spy?”

“You know I’m a spy?”

The outrage in both questions would have been funny if the topic had not been not so serious.

“Yes, I figured it out quite a while ago; you both know I am very good at puzzles.  Now, James, we had best get in touch with Professor Dumbledore and see what is involved in setting up the Fidelius charm, hadn’t we?  Thanks again for the warning, Severus, you had better go in case someone sees you and you put yourself in danger.  Take care of yourself, my dear friend.”  She reached up and dropped a kiss on his cheek before he could move away; giggling tearfully as he looked outraged just before he Apparated out.  James made a protesting noise and his wife turned to him with an expression of sheer disgust.  “Oh, for God’s sake, James, grow up!  Severus is gay!  He’s into shagging men and not into shagging women, not even interested in women in any shape or form, got it now?” she demanded exasperatedly before he could make any further protest.  “Now call the professor, won’t you?”

 

oo0oo

 

_October 24th_

 

“They are gone!  We had them under surveillance and now they are gone!  I want to know where they are immediately, do you all understand?  Find me those bloody Potters.  That little brat will not grow up to be a threat, do you hear me!  I will not allow it!  I want him killed.  I want his blood splattered all over my face as I watch him die.  I want him dead and I want to watch his eyes as the life leaves him!  Find me that family immediately!”

Death Eaters scattered as the random hexes and spittle splattered them all.  The fusillade of multiple apparitions was almost deafening in the enclosed space of the Riddle House’s Great Hall.

Roaring inarticulately, Lord Voldemort continued to blast and hex the furnishings, lashing out like a rabid dog at anything that caught his attention.  He hated to be thwarted in his plans and the Potters were causing him to change them.  How dare they try to escape him; how dare Potter refuse his more than generous offer.  How dare they challenge his will and his plans for their future or lack of one?

 

oo0oo

 

_October 30th_

 

“My Lord, I know where they are, I know who the Secret-Keeper is and I know how they disappeared,” the smug voice in the shadows murmured with a mixture of fear and gloating in the softly triumphant tones.

All the Death Eaters gathered in the Great Hall at Malfoy Manor leaned forward to hear better, hear the pronouncement that should make their Lord happy again and stop the random bouts of _Cruciatus_ he had been inflicting on his followers almost constantly for the last four days.

Severus leaned forward too, trying to recognise the voice that was betraying his friend and her son to his lover.  Who was it?  Black?  Was he right to think that Black would sell out his friends for the price of favour?  It couldn’t be Pettigrew, he was too spineless and Lupin, even if he was a Dark Creature, was as loyal to his friends as any wolf was to his pack.  Not Lupin, not Pettigrew, it had to be Black, first cousin to both Narcissa and that mad bitch Bella, it had to be him.  Gods, he felt sick to his stomach.

“Tell me!  No, whisper to me, I want no slip-ups on this one,” Lord Voldemort muttered a triumphant gloating on his face as he leaned into the shadows.  Again, everyone leaned forward hoping this time for a glimpse of the news-bearer, but the Death Eater robes he wore hid all but a blob-like outline from their sight.  “Ah, perfect!  And tomorrow is Halloween, just the prefect timing too!  Bella, Severus, Rodolphus and Goyle, you will come with me.  The rest of you will stay here until I bring the news of our glorious triumph back to share with you all in feasting and celebrations.”

Severus felt the anti-Apparition wards go up with a sinking heart.  He was trapped and would not be able to warn the Potters or the Professor about this attack.  Grimly he listened as Lord Voldemort outlined his plans for the following evening, culminating in the taking of the baby’s soul to fuel yet another foray into Demon Summoning.  The sickness in Severus’ soul became even more pronounced when he realised Lord Voldemort would be using the very magic his own Grandmother had taught him in secret, the magic Severus was a party to but had all but renounced a number of years before.  All he could do was choke down the bile that clogged his throat and wait.  If there was any chance of slipping away, even if he was seen and noticed, he would take it, better to forfeit his own position than let the blood of innocents flow to such a cause.

If Tom Riddle succeeded in gaining the child’s soul, he would be all but invincible, immortal and totally immoral, a dictator of the very worst kind.  No one would be safe from his wrath, no one would be able to oppose him in his reign of terror and no one would be safe ever again.  If Tom Riddle did not destroy them, then the Muggle masses would surely do so.  No matter how Tom despised them, the Muggles would overwhelm them with sheer weight of numbers and drag them all down to their doom without a second thought.

 

oo0oo

 

_November 1st, 1.00am_

 

“Headmaster!  Oh Merlin, Albus, he found them and he has killed her, but his curse rebounded and destroyed him.”  Severus could hardly speak for the shock that made his teeth chatter as he stumbled out of the fire and landed on the headmaster’s hearthrug.  “I tried to get near them to stay his hand or foul his aim, but he was too intent.  He wouldn’t let any of us go into the cottage with him and the others refused to allow any disobedience to his orders.  I think he took James out first, the idiot tried to defend his family but he was not strong enough.  We all heard him shouting, yelling hexes, then screaming as Lily stood there, refusing to budge, begging for Harry’s life but James was definitely hexed first.  Gods above, Headmaster, it took him a long time to die.  The others were laughing and chattering, holding the anti-apparition wards even when we felt Lily trying so hard to Apparate out.  Bella was particularly nasty, letting the ward slip a little then reinforcing it in an instant, tossing Lily’s spell back onto her most painfully.  I tried to let the ward down but --”  Severus dashed tears from his eyes and gulped the whisky the Headmaster held out to him as if it was merely water before continuing as if the interruption had not happened.

“Then Lily stood there, refusing to budge, begging for Harry’s life, but Tom was past listening, he just laughed and cast _Avada Kadavra_.  She died instantly with only one scream that seemed to go on forever.  Thank God it was quick, I don’t think I could have stood by while he played with her, really I could not have.  She landed almost in slow motion, falling over Harry, protecting him even in death, making him cry but when Tom cast the same Unforgivable curse at the boy, it rebounded!  All his preparations, all his careful spells and pre-said incantations came to naught against a one-year old baby!  I tried to get to Harry and protect him but the others were trying to finish Lord Voldemort’s job and destroy the child.  I let a shoe transfigured into a baby go in the hallway and it crawled away, distracting them enough so that I could do something for Harry.  All I could do was cast _Protego_ on him and hide him under an unnoticeability spell.  Bella was going mad, tossing curses and hexes at everyone, even Rodolophus caught a few of her wilder shots, but Harry was fine even though I couldn’t do any more for him.  You have to go immediately, get the child and hide him, you have to go now.”  The last was said at a shriek as the distraught wizard dived back into the Floo and was gone.

Albus barely had time to alert Minerva before he Flooed out to the small house where he had hoped the family would be safe.  Knowledge that one of the Marauders had betrayed them all was like a stone in his gullet.  Oh, he knew Sirius had a nasty temper and often did wildly rash things but had he betrayed his trust?  Albus did not want to think it was so as he hurried to the site of the disaster.

 

oo0oo

 

Malfoy Manor was lit up like Christmas, the anti-Apparition wards that had been keeping all the Death Eaters in place had vanished away at ten to midnight, letting every one free to leave.  Of course there had been some speculation when the Dark Lord had not returned to announce his triumph but then, who were they to question their Lord’s comings and goings?

Lucius and Narcissa stood in the Great Hall, holding hands and graciously seeing the last of their unexpected guests out.  They had been treating the enforced lock-in as a social occasion, a pre-triumph gathering of the Death Eater party that was to explode into rejoicing the second the victory was announced.  There was even a huge amount of champagne all ready to be popped.

As the minutes trickled by, the guests had become restless despite the food, music and dancing and eventually a few had slunk away, more and more following.  By wordless agreement, the Malfoys had decided to act as if this was a planned part of the gathering and had been graciously bidding farewell as if the party was coming to a perfect ending -- anything to save face -- but they were both growing rather uneasy.

When Severus was suddenly there, paler than a ghost, dishevelled and shaking fearfully, it was almost a confirmation of their fears.

“Lucius, there is no time to explain.  Our Lord is dead, completely disappeared, physically and spiritually!  The Potter child defeated him.  The alarm charms went off a few seconds after the Lord’s magic was cancelled so I imagine the Aurors are hard on my heels.  The Lestranges and Goyles are already in hiding and I assume everyone else can fend for themselves.  Here, this is the best I can do to protect you, as I don’t think disappearing is an option for you two.  This is liquid Imperius, impossible to brew, I know, but I am very, very good so no one will ever suspect.  You and Narcissa have to take it immediately, no questions, no arguing, do you understand?  Then you can claim immunity to persecution by way of being under the Imperius Curse for the whole time, you understand?”

“But why…” Narcissa began even as Lucius’ eyes widened in comprehension then fear.

Suddenly the implications of Severus’ gabbled news hit him like a ton of bricks.  He was a known and avid supporter of the Dark Lord.  He had held rallies and parties here in his home; he had openly campaigned for the Dark Lord’s ascension and his dominance of the wizarding world.  If the Dark Lord was gone, defeated by a mere child, it would make him look like a complete idiot at the very least.  At the worst -- and trust the Aurors to make sure they only saw the very worst -- he and his family would be the scapegoats for the Lord who was not there to face the charges himself.  Malfoy was in danger!  Family Malfoy was vulnerable to attack and destruction for picking the wrong side.  Now, Severus was offering them a way to save face, save their lives and save Family Malfoy from complete ruin.  It was the only way out of an impossibly complicated situation!

He grabbed the small potions vial Severus held out and quickly forced it onto Narcissa, who drank it almost reflexively, before he grabbed his own dose from Severus and downed it in one.

Severus nodded to his lover and smiled sadly as he drew himself up tall.  “You are both free of the necessity to follow Lord Voldemort’s orders; you are no longer under his spell.  You will forget I was ever here this evening except as the bearer of good tidings and in ten minutes you will be free of the Dark Lord’s influence,” he pronounced, then dived back into the Floo system, vanishing away.

The Malfoys looked at each other in astonishment then Narcissa covered her mouth with her long white fingers, tears welling up in her ice blue eyes.  “Oh my Gods, the Dark Lord is dead, he’s gone, Lucius, he’s gone!  What will happen to us now?” she whispered fearfully, a sob escaping her tight control.

“Now we can lead a normal life, free of the Imperius Curse we have been under for so long,” Lucius told her firmly as he curved an arm over her shoulders and drew her closer.  “Now we have to do some damage control and I think Severus has just saved our bacon, as well as our reputations.”

“But only if we repudiate the Lord,” Narcissa snapped angrily.

“Sadly, we must repudiate him or lose everything my family has ever worked and schemed for.  And Narcissa, Malfoys do not go to Azkaban!  Ever!”

 

oo0oo

 

_November 1st, 2.00pm_

 

Sirius skidded to a halt in the middle of the street, cornering Peter against the side of a hardware store on the main street of the small Muggle village.  “You bastard, you unutterable, traitorous bastard,” he screamed, his voice raw from tears and fury.  “How could you do that to our friends?  How could you betray them to that monster?”

Peter trembled but stood his ground, the cornered rat.  “ _Our_ friends?  You mean _your_ friends!  All they ever did was tolerate me, tease me, laugh at me, and tell me I was a fool and a coward for not defying my father and doing what I wanted most.  You should have heard Lily prose on and hand out the advice with all the authority of her Mudblood arrogance.  Who the Hell did she think she was, trying to play Ducks and Drakes with a pure-blood’s future?  What did she understand of Family and Duty and what was owed to the Name?  Nothing, a stupid Mudblood whore!  The Dark Lord was right about that, Mudbloods have no appreciation of tradition and obligation to the blood.”

“She was your friend!  She helped you and encouraged you, and you repaid her by leading that monster right to her home and standing by while he killed the whole family.  All of them are dead because of you, Peter, so now you are going to have to face up to James’ ghost because I am going to kill you myself,” Sirius snarled, raising his wand.

“Oh no, just a second, I have one more thing to say to you, Sirius Black, fool and blood traitor.”  Peter raised his wand which had been transfigured into a knife and brought it smartly down on his own hand.  Sirius gasped as one of Peter’s fingers was neatly and cleanly severed, almost without any reaction from Peter to pain or fear or horror.  It was as if he was on a higher plane from the usual one they inhabited.  Both wizards watched the finger as it seemed to float to the ground in slow motion.  Peter suddenly smiled, looking like his own younger, more carefree self once again.  “Sucker,” he said clearly before the world exploded in Sirius’ face.

 

oo0oo

 

_November 1st, 9.30pm_

 

“What’s that noise?” Frank asked Alice as they were going up to bed.

“No idea, probably just a cat.”  She laughed softly, leaning against his arm tiredly.  Neville had been fretful all day and she was worn out.

The quiet tinkle of breaking glass made them both jump and reach for their wands as four figures broke into the hall and stairwell and yelled _Expelliarmus_ almost in chorus with the Longbottoms.  Frank’s wand was ripped from his hand and his body tossed hard against the stairs even as Alice managed to disarm one of the Death Eaters who were invading their home.  The nearest man, willowy and tall, punched forward with a strong right hook and clipped Alice’s chin neatly.  Stunned, she stumbled over her fallen husband and tumbled down the stairs in a flurry of dressing gown to land at the slim Death Eater’s feet.  The four Death Eaters grabbed the unconscious Aurors and dragged them through to the living room, tossing them down carelessly on the hearthrug before the shorter of the men pointed his wand and cast ‘ _Enervate’._

“So you want to play hard-ball, do you?”  The tones were female, the voice high and hysterical.  “What have you bastards done to our Lord?  Where is he?  Tell me now!  _Crucio_!  Tell me, tell me!  Now!”

The woman arched high, a scream of pure agony lancing through the air and upstairs a small child woke with a start and a whimper of terror.

 

oo0oo

 

Severus stared down at the neat, bold writing on the fly sheet of the small book.  ‘ _To Severus, love is… never having to admit you are impossible!  Have a great Christmas.  Love, Lily and Harry.  (I won’t mention James; I know what that does to your blood pressure.)_ ’  No more sly post owls, no more unexpected and hard-to-explain gifts, no more flame bright hair dancing down a corridor, no more… no more.  No more suffering the _Cruciatus_ Curse for no apparent reason, no more kisses in front of the fire, no more mind-stretching chess games, no more slow, sensual sex.  The two most important people in his life were gone in an instant.  One removed by the other’s obsession with a prophecy that might or might not be true.  The obsessed removed by a mother’s love for her child and need to protect him, even in death.

“The Longbottoms!  Oh Merlin, the Longbottoms!”  Severus surged to his feet and grabbed the Floo powder.  “Headmaster’s office!  Albus, the Longbottoms, they are without protection and no one has caught Bellatrix Lestrange yet, have they?  She is totally deranged and will be even more so now that the Dark Lord has disappeared.”

Albus blinked then shivered.  “You don’t think --”

“I don’t know, but I am not going to take any chances.  I will go to their place immediately, you get hold of the Aurors and meet me there,” Severus said harshly and pulled out of the fire, renewed the Floo powder and Flooed out to the nearest public Floo in Hogsmeade.

Apparating silently was a trick he had learned over the years and Severus used every scrap of stealth he could to get close to the building.  Maniacal laughter rang through the rooms of the small house, the screams and groans of a soul in agony as the mad-woman encouraged her companions to keep the _Cruciatus_ Curse hard and strong on both the Longbottoms.  Frank was barely twitching but Alice still screamed; small high-pitched squeaks like those of a dying rabbit.  Severus shuddered, letting himself in quietly at the back door and creeping past the open living room door.  He prayed to all the Powers-That-Were that the stairs did not creak as he crept up them and opened doors until he heard the soft whimpers of a terrified child.

The boy was sitting in his cot with his thumb plugged very firmly in his mouth, silent tears running down his face.  Moving silently, Severus bent and picked him up, the little body going rigid in his arms, the huge inhalation heralding a scream of some magnitude.  Severus clamped his hand over the wide-stretched mouth and managed to stifle most of the noise but the cut-off shriek was enough to make one of the four torturers downstairs perk up his ears.  Severus ground his teeth in frustration as he wrestled with the child, trying to hold him still and silent enough to cast a silencing charm over him but he was not having too much success.

“Well, well, Severus Snape, is it?  Fancy meeting you here,” the man drawled from the doorway, his wand held casually in his hand. 

“Barty, I thought you were busy,” Severus replied, the child in his arms freezing in terror.

“Evidently.  Is that the child whom our Lord wanted killed?  Did you think you could steal the child and thus the glory when our Lord returned to us?”

“You read my mind, Barty,” Severus said softly, rocking the poor child gently.  “Still, I suppose I can share it with you,” he added slyly making the mouth below the mask curl contemptuously.  It froze as Severus cast a wandless _Stupefy_ which nearly caused his knees to buckle in his present, semi-exhausted state, but it was enough to temporarily stun Barty, long enough to get his wand out and cast _Obliviate_ over the man before he could hit the ground.  “You are lucky I don’t have time to kill you, you imbecile, but a fast death would be too good for you, you bastard,” Severus hissed venomously as he kicked the still body in passing.

He made it down the stairs before the front door burst open and red-robed Aurors burst in, curses and hexes flying indiscriminately.  Severus yelped as something caught him in the side, turning to protect the child with his body.  He didn’t see the bludger spell that slammed into his skull, or the spells that took out the Lestranges.

 


	24. Chapter 24: The End of the Beginning

Mad Eye Moody stared down at the sallow-skinned wizard who had been given so much _Veritaserum_ it was a wonder he was not babbling everything he had ever known no matter how personal and private.  Some of the things they had managed to get out of him were amazing enough but irrelevant to the present crisis.  No matter how they tried to word it, Severus Snape had not been involved in the deaths of the Potters nor had he been involved in the torture of the Longbottoms.  In fact, just as Dumbledore had claimed, he had actually been instrumental in warning the headmaster and in protecting the baby, young Neville.  Sighing deeply, he spelled the chains away and grabbed a handful of greasy black hair to pull him to his feet, then discovered he was going to have to change his grip or else grow another foot to make that ploy effective.

“You’re lucky, laddie; Albus Dumbledore has vouched for you before the Wizengamot.  He claims you were a spy and that your testimony must be suppressed in case anyone tries to come after you for revenge.  The Minister was so sure you were guilty, he had already ordered your wand broken and he nearly cried when you were exonerated.  So, you are going to have to expend the Galleons on a new wand rather sooner than later.  Personally, I don’t think it would be a bad thing to let someone finish you off in a revenge killing, but then personal is never often professional, is it?”

“Rarely,” Severus replied softly, almost friendly.  “When it becomes personal, your professional detachment goes by the board and you make stupid mistakes.  Best to always keep it professional, that way you don’t get hurt too often.”

Pausing, Moody had to smile grimly, the lad might be young and a Dark wizard – and he would have bet that he was a vampire if he hadn’t cast the charms and seen the results for himself – but he was right.  Sighing deeply, Moody hauled the skinny arm and made the tall, gaunt man follow him out to where Albus Dumbledore waited to collect him and take him back to the school.

 

oo0oo

 

The Wizengamot also cleared Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy of conspiring to raise a Dark Lord, supporting the destruction of the wizarding world and treason against the forces of Light.  Both had been tested and proven positive to the influence of the _Imperius_ Curse, a very potent and long lasting variety.  Even putting both Malfoys under _Veritaserum_ had only proven their case even further.  The bastards had slipped the net and Family Malfoy would live to rise another day, curse them!

 

oo0oo

 

Remus Lupin sat dry-eyed and unmoving, barely breathing and not daring to do more than blink occasionally.

James and Lily were dead, unbelievable!

Peter was dead, incredible!

Sirius was in Azkaban, sentenced to life without parole, oh god, unbearable!

Another shiver coursed through his body and he keened high and wild.

While he had been trapped in the cellar of the house he and Sirius had shared, his husband had been out killing his best friends and leaving their only child an injured and grieving orphan.  Then, to compound his sins, Sirius had hunted down the one person who must have witnessed his murderous betrayal and had blasted him to a thin and soggy vapour, apart from a single finger that had been left behind in mute testimony to his passing.  Gods, of all people, why Peter, a more harmless and inoffensive wizard there never was.  Then to simply laugh hysterically when the Aurors arrived to arrest him was just typical of Sirius Black!

And what had Moony done?  Nothing!  On the one day when he could have protected James and Lily, he had been useless!  A stupid fucking lycanthrope, gnawing on his own flesh and howling at the moon!

A gasp of sheer misery burst from his throat and he threw his head back howling at the ceiling without a care for how the animalistic sound affected the neighbours.  Remus Lupin was alone, a wolf without a pack and deserted by all, without hope and hopeless.  He had the right to mourn.

 

oo0oo

 

Severus sat silently in his rooms in the dungeons of Hogwarts, his head cradled in his hands.  He sighed and sat wondering how he was going to survive for the rest of his life, rejected and scorned by the wizarding world, hated by his students and cautioned to lay low by his lover.

The Light had won, the celebrating hordes made much of the Dark Lord’s defeat, but personally Severus had lost everything he had ever valued, including a true and trusted friend in Lily Potter.  Gods, he wondered why he had survived?  Why he was alive and free while everyone else he knew was either dead or fled or living in denial?  Albus had not promised him accolades, only that he would be Right.  Now, he wondered if the deal had been worth it.

He sighed again.

 

End


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